


When at War

by Melluky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Hate to Love, Romance, War, stuck together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 57,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melluky/pseuds/Melluky
Summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, Hermione is forced into the company of Draco Malfoy. Depending on one another will be difficult when opposing objectives are in play. Set in a world where the first Horcrux has not yet been destroyed and the trio are still in hiding from the death eaters after the Gringotts escape. Slow burn Dramione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slow burn Dramione Harry Potter fanfiction. Disclaimer: all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling.

Her eyes snapped open as the wind deafened her. It took a moment for her discombobulated mind to focus. Paralyzing fear struck her. Would she hit the rocks or the water? In what seemed like the bravest thing she had ever done, she twisted her head to look. She barely noticed Draco Malfoy falling not far from her as the dark water quickly approached. Could she even survive hitting the lake from that height? How could she let herself get so distracted? If a million thoughts could rush into someone's mind at once, it's in the moments fuelled with adrenaline, right before death. She could no longer hear Ron's angry war cries or Harry's periodic shouts of her name. In a surge of despair, she quite literally saw her life flash before her eyes.

* * *

"It's my turn to wear it Harry" she said, outstretching her hand to him.

"It's fine. I can wear it a little while longer" he solemnly answered.

"We should stick to the schedule. That way no one needs to endure its effects for a prolonged period of time."

"I know that Hermione. I said I'm fine."

She looked to Ron across the campfire, who also looked uncomfortable with Harry's behavior.

"She's right mate, no need to suffer longer than you have too."

"You two haven't been listening. I can feel him. When I have it on, I think I can sense when he's getting closer. It's like...I can feel him".

Hermione watched as Harry rubbed the Horcrux between his fingers, his gaze fixed to the small flame they had lit.

"Is he near now?" Ron carefully asked.

Harry paused for a moment. "No."

"Then let me have i-"

"I said no Hermione!" He stated as he ripped his gaze from the flames to her face.

Not a heartbeat later, rustling of vegetation and hurried footsteps could be heard from the nearby woods. All three immediately stood up, wands retrieved and slightly raised at the ready.

"Hermione, you did ward us here ya?" Ron frantically whispered.

"I did." She quietly responded.

"Be ready for anything" said Harry, attenuating the fire wordlessly. Running from the death eaters these past couple of months had them repeating certain spells so many times words were no longer needed to perform the magic.

With only the first rays of sunlight peeking above the horizon, adjusting to the darkness of the forest was difficult without the campfire's glow. Worse, straining to hear footsteps in the woods made the forest seem eerily quiet.

Hermione turned her head as a second pair of footsteps appeared. Followed by a third from a different direction. Harry nodded to Hermione, who immediately began the emergency pack up routine while Harry and Ron moved into position to cover her back. Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps, indistinguishable in numbers, were walking around them in every direction. Ron fidgeted with his wand nervously, visibly shaking and pointing it at any new sounds nearing him while Harry stood steady, firm and patient. Neither seeing movement, only hearing it. Hermione was the last to notice as the rustling around them stopped, too engrossed with the last of the packing as she fastened her beaded handbag to her belt.

For a moment nothing moved. The trio stood back to back in a triangular formation, a few feet from the other.

Then, all at once and from all around them, blinding red lights shot out from behind the trees and foliage, visibly disintegrating Hermione's barrier and protection spells. As it shimmered away, a dozen snatchers and death eaters emerged from the foliage snickering and sneering, effectively surrounding them.

And then they attacked.

Red flashes, green lightning, and dark purple spells were thrown while the three friends deflected and attempted retaliation.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry and Ron screamed in unison.

Four bodies were sent flying away from them, and Hermione quickly took the opportunity to escape the enclosure, all the while parrying oncoming attacks. Harry and Ron followed suit, and when they had created enough distance between them and the followers, the three turned to run.

"Harry you said he wasn't here!" Ron yelled as they began to pick up speed.

"He isn't!" Harry yelled back, deflecting a stun.

"Hermione how did they find us?!" shrieked Ron as he jumped over a log.

"I don't know!" She breathlessly replied, pushing her legs to run even faster.

A jet of dark red light zipped past her temple, and the heat of it singed the top of her ear, making her flinch and lose her footing. The unintended squeak that escaped her throat caught Ron's attention, and he stopped dead in his tracks to run back to her.

"Hermione!" yelled Harry.

He stopped and turned, firing back to give them some cover as the death eaters began catching up.

One of the snatchers threw up a pink signal, high through the tree line, momentarily illuminating the entire area of the forest. Harry quickly counted eight of them as Ron and Hermione sprinted up to him.

A couple of swooshing sounds resonated, and newly apparated death eaters joined the hunt.

"Can't run forever Potter!" One of them loudly stated while they continued their advance.

Harry ducked behind a large oak tree as a rainbow of colors flurried by him. Ron and Hermione had also taken shelter and were occasionally throwing out counter-attacks.

"That's Draco Malfoy," Harry told the other two over the sounds of fired shots.

"How can you tell?" asked Hermione as Ron simultaneously said, "So?"

"I'm sure of it. And I think Dobby wants to say hi," And with that raging thought in mind, Harry stepped out of his hiding spot and started taking on the brunt of the attacks one by one.

"Oh come on!" Yelled a frustrated Ron.

Then he too jumped from behind the tree and started on the offensive.

Hermione took a moment to think about the recently deceased house elf and the recent events at Malfoy manner. Her forearm flared in pain just thinking about it. But without Dobby, chances are they wouldn't even be here, and she would have long been dead at the hands of Bellatrix. If Draco was here, it must be in a vain attempt to recapture them. Wouldn't want you-know-who to realize his prized objective had escaped.

The ground a few feet from the tree she was hiding behind spontaneously exploded, splattering her entire body with dirt. The spell left the ground steaming.

Taking a couple of rapid deep breaths, she came out of her hiding spot and joined the boys on the battlefield.

Some of the death eaters wore masks while others didn't bother. Certain faces were recognizable while others remained typical nameless henchmen. Some wore more expensive robes, others were dressed rather commonly. The one she was fighting with now wore plain brown pants for heaven's sake. It still amazed her that people from all walks of life chose to side with Voldemort's vision of pure-blood supremacy. She briefly wondered if they were promised a return for their undying obedience and servitude.

"A mudblood covered in mud? How incredibly appropriate."

Hermione turned in time to block Lucius Malfoy's green jet. Her eyes widened in fear as he vanished his mask. His long blond hair covered his shoulders perfectly, as if no amount of wind had ever touched his face. His eyes, on the other hand, were exhausted, sunken in, and almost dull looking.

"Do you ever get tired of running Miss Granger? It seems awfully draining."

Another jet of color hurled her way, and she twisted her body to divert it, before returning her attention to the older Malfoy.

"Oh, not to worry dear, your blood will soon run in the muk." He added, staring at the excessive blood loss to the side of her face where her ear had earlier been grazed. "Like the rest of your kind."

"Hermione!" she heard Harry call out to her somewhere in the nearby distance. Her words breathlessly escaped her as she responded,

"Perhaps, Mr. Malfoy. Whether or not you live to see its possibility will depend on whether or not _he_ figures out you were incapable of preventing us from escaping the mansion".

It was more of an educated guess really. But as his face steeled over in anger, she concluded it was an accurate estimation.

He sneered at her as his arm shot out in front of him, throwing her a curved spell that she barely deflected. The force of it thrust her to the side, and she had to hop a bit to regain her footing. When she lifted her head, she barely had time to throw her arm up in defense against his next attack.

Her arm stayed risen as she started retreating backward from his onslaught of barrages. It was as if the end of his wand was shooting out fireworks in rapid succession, and her bicep was quickly becoming exhausted from the repetitive deflection movements. Mr. Malfoy's skill level outmatched her own as he graciously continued to step forward and elegantly maintained an arrhythmic pattern of curses at her.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" cried Ron as he ran past her, beelining the aristocrat.

"Ron wait!" She tried to cover him, but a passing red curse momentarily blinded her and made her recoil from it.

She looked over to the source and stunned the woman who shot it at her.

As her new adversary slumped to the ground, she could see Harry solely battling Draco Malfoy and about six unmoving bodies on the ground near them. She knew Harry had never used a killing curse, but his skills at dulling were frightfully exceptional.

Ron's roars of anger caught her attention, and she whirled around and intercepted a hex aimed at Ron's legs. He wasn't holding up against Lucius either and together they only managed to stop him from physically advancing.

They needed Harry and they needed him now.

The rising sun revealed they were atop a steep rock face and the dawn glimmered upon an immense lake down below. She didn't know the area; it was Ron who had chosen this apparition site, claiming his father had once shown him pictures of a research trip.

Lucius halted his attacks as his eyes darted to his son.

"Finish them" he then told a couple of bystanding snatchers, who were previously admiring the display of prowess he'd demonstrated. Despite the failed retention of the golden trio, Malfoy senior still held mass amounts of respect within the rankings. He had, after all, climbed the ranks to Voldemort's inner circle through wealth, knowledge, connections, and magical skill that almost matched those of Bellatrix.

He waved an invisible wall and walked past the two lesser skilled companions; his destination had Harry Potter in his sight, who was clearly gaining an edge over his let down of an offspring.

"He's going after Harry!" hollered Hermione.

"I'm on it!"

But Ron didn't get a chance to run after Mr. Malfoy as the remaining assailants focused their attention on him.

"I'm going!" she decided.

Ron was too caught up in the action to answer. She didn't wait for one as she sprinted out of the forest closer to the edge of the cliff, where Harry had Draco on the ground, pitifully raging defensive spells. As her feet propelled her forward, she watched as Mr. Malfoy covertly lifted his wand as he approached Harry from behind. An idea came to her as Lucius's cape billowed silently in his stride, casting a shadow with the rising sun on the horizon.

"Incendio!" she screamed, and the cloth caught fire. This seemed to catch both Harry and the younger Malfoy's attention as Lucius ripped off his cloak and stomped on it in an attempt to put out the flame. Harry took the distraction and expelled Malfoy's wand from him. To Draco's utter despair, it soared high over the cliff to its bottom.

"Why you filthy, disgusting little-" started Lucius to Hermione.

"This is it Malfoy." Interrupted Harry, his wand still pointed at Draco. "You've failed. Again."

Lucius remained calm and paused for a moment. "Have I now?" he replied, raising an eyebrow.

Somebody grabbed Hermione from behind as a bruised, cut up and bound Ron was thrown to the ground beside her.

Harry's boyish features contorted darkly.

"Let them go."

"I think not," Lucius stated as he inhaled the first whiffs of smoke and actually took the time to look over the lake and the skyline. "You are in no position to bargain. "

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "I have your son."

"And I hold in my possession the fate of your two _best_ friends, not to mention the fact that you are now," he looked around for confirmation, "...outnumbered."

It was true, a couple of stun's had worn off and apart from Lucius and Draco, one goon was holding Hermione at wand-point, two stood over Ron, and another slowly joined them from the treeline.

The patch of dry grass Lucius's cloak landed on had caught fire and was rapidly spreading, jumping from one area to the next as the wind picked up, jostling the trees. Harry then noticed that while the death eater holding Hermione had her hostage, the dimwit had forgotten to take away her wand, and she was holding it tightly, hiding it in her sleeve. Draco was without a wand so he was less of a problem. But he didn't think Hermione could handle the other four goons while he took on Lucius. He glanced down at Ron who seemed to be floating in and out of consciousness.

He was running low on ideas.

Hermione, on the other hand, had been concentrating on silently cutting Ron's ropes with a spell, at times accidentally cutting him in the process. It was difficult to aim while trying to remain unnoticed.

"Should we call upon the dark Lord sire?" asked the henchman to Ron's left.

"Don't be hasty." Lucius turned to answer the goon. "If there's one thing I've learned about these three it's to not celebrate prematurely." That's when he noticed Hermione's concentrated look to Ron. "Stop her!" he stated as he took a step in her direction.

By chance, she finished cutting the last of Ron's ropes. "Innervate!" she cried, and her blast to his chest brutally woke him up.

He was going to need serious medical attention later from forcefully being waked from unconsciousness, but it was the only foreseeable opportunity they could have of escape.

Ron jumped into action, tackling the closest snatcher to the ground, frantically beating him. He had every intention of stealing the man's wand since he had no idea what they had done with his.

Harry promptly reacted and engaged Lucius to divert his attention.

That left Hermione with three. She hastily pointed her wand behind her and incanted "Repellio!" and an invisible force threw her captor a couple of feet from her. Luckily, he fell into the growing fire and frightfully attempted to attenuate it as it latched onto his robes.

Draco watched dumbfoundedly as his father's usually composed face was struck with disbelief and fear. Not fear of Potter, he was sure, but fear of the golden trio's escape.

Again.

His eyes shifted to Ron, who was still wrestling his comrade for a wand and then to Granger, who was holding her own against two grown men, trained in the dark arts.

Without a wand, he was pretty useless. Fucking Potter.

Draco got up from his position on the ground and stalked over to Weasley, grabbing him by the clothes on his shoulders and yanking him off the bloke. Spells were being thrown without care or precision from the henchmen fighting Granger, so he had to dodge a few.

"Hey! Watch it!"

His outburst ended up distracting them, and Granger managed a perfect expelliarmus charm that disarmed the man closest to Ron, and his wand flew to the ground between the two. The guy Weasley had previously been pummelling was incoherently groaning on the ground next to him.

At least he still had his wand. _A wand_.

"Give me that." He bent down to retrieve it when a burst of yellow light shot his wrist. He yelped in pain and held his new burn close to him. He looked up to see Weasley's dark gaze and newly acquired wand pointed right at him, its previous owner passed out on the ground beneath him. Panic overtook him before he noticed Granger backing up towards him, her exhaustion catching up with her. She was completely absorbed in her fight.

He lunged at her from behind and grabbed her, locking her wand arm to her chest diagonally and using her as a shield against Weasley.

Ron quickly stunned the last man before redirecting his wand to Draco.

"Go ahead weasel, shoot."

Ron paused, worry spreading across his face. "Get away from the cliff's edge Malfoy."

Draco froze and turned his head to check. Sure enough, about three steps back would have him tumbling to his death. No matter, he thought, turning back to the redhead. He knew Weasley wasn't going to shoot. All he had to do was wait for his father to overpower Potter, and a quick glance in their direction told him he wouldn't need to wait very long.

"Don't be daft Malfoy," Granger huffed, clearly irritated as she tugged at his constricting grip.

How can she seriously be annoyed right now? He was in control. "Shut up mudblood." They were in battle, her chances of escape were against the odds. To press his point, he squeezed her tighter, causing a pained noise to escape her. As his cheek accidentally brushed her ear, she flinched away from him in pain.

He also recoiled when he felt wetness touch his face. He took a moment to actually look at her and saw all the blood oozing from a missing top of her ear, completely soaking a part of her hair, her neck, and her shoulder.

That's _disgusting._

His attention was pulled from her when the ground shook.

The man whom Hermione repelled into the fire was heading towards them, his fury as apparent as his second-degree burns that destroyed parts of his legs, arms, and face. "Bombarda Maxima!" he shrieked at Ron.

Ron deflected the blow again, but it landed nearby a thick tree, blasting the earth and shattering the tree trunk.

Draco steadied himself as the ground shook once more and watched as the rest of the tree seemingly slowly fell; it's heavy top half going over the edge of the cliff and the rest following it to the bottom where a loud crash was heard. Even Potter and his father paused.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

"Stop it!" yelled Ron as he was forced to deflect another bomb. The earth shook again.

Hermione pulled at his arm with more urgency, twisting in his hold.

"Let me go Malfoy" panic now apparent in her voice.

"I don't think so, Granger."

"Bombarda Maxima!" Loud grunting echoed as the ground beneath them started to give and splashes from falling rocks made Draco hyper-aware of how close to the edge he really was.

"Enough!" yelled Lucius.

Hermione had to get away from the edge. Her eyes scanned everything they could and landed on Malfoys burnt wrist.

"Bombarda MAXIMA!"

She bit down on it. Hard. Malfoy howled in pain and instinctively released her. She took two steps forward before the ground beneath her gave away.

"HERMIONE!" screamed Harry and Ron. But their voices were swallowed by the crumbling cliff.

* * *

Her eyes snapped open as the wind deafened her. It took a moment for her discombobulated mind to focus. Paralyzing fear struck her. Would she hit the rocks or the water? In what seemed like the bravest thing she had ever done, she twisted her head to look. She barely noticed Draco Malfoy falling not far from her as the dark water quickly approached. Could she even survive hitting the lake from that height? How could she let herself get so distracted? If a million thoughts could rush into someone's mind at once, it's in the moments fuelled with adrenaline, right before death.

She could no longer hear Ron's angry war cries or Harry's periodic shouts of her name. In a surge of despair, she quite literally saw her life flash before her eyes, up until that very moment. As the present caught up with her she estimated she had about two seconds before she hit the water. With an idea that bordered the line of unrealistic expectations, she pointed her wand that she still miraculously held onto at the water and screamed,

"COXINUS!" praying to anyone who'd listen, and screwed her eyes shut.


	2. Chapter 2

She lost her breath as she hit the lake, her body instantly cooled.

Re-orientating herself, her legs scissored as she started for the surface. Her lungs began to burn as she pushed upward and the need for air overtook her senses.

Debris was still falling into the water, making her path to the surface take that much longer as she dodged oncoming rocks and heavy branches.

With a final kick, she emerged audibly, inhaling and sputtering as the waves pushed their way into her open mouth and into her lungs.

After catching her breath, Hermione looked up to where she had fallen. A couple of trees had caught fire and parts of the precipice were still hurtling towards the water. She pushed her aching body and turned away from it.

"Where do you think you're going, Granger?"

She twisted her head and found Malfoy treading water a mere ten meters closer to the rock face.

How she wished he'd have hit it.

She ignored him as she swerved around and continued on her path to the safest shoreline.

She thought about Harry and Ron and prayed for their safety.

With all the ruckus, she didn't hear Draco catch up to her, and she screamed when he grabbed her thigh.

She took a deep breath and ducked underwater. She twisted her body so she was facing him and landed a swift kick to his abdomen. She kicked him a second time with her newly freed leg and gained a few feet of distance.

"Get away from me!" She shrieked when she resurfaced and aggressively splashed water his way.

It occurred to her that he was wandless so she patted her pockets only to realize she must have lost it when she hit the water.

Her wand was made of vine wood.

Vine wood floats!

She desperately started looking for her wand in the morning light. But the water was littered with twigs from the tree that had fallen. It was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Draco was royally pissed.

He lost his wand; nearly died falling off a cliff and that bitch of a witch just kicked him with almost enough force to make him puke. He gripped his aching stomach with one hand and took off after her.

Screw his father's plan. She was gonna drown.

Granger was turning and twisting, clearly looking for something.

He used her distraction to his convenience as he swam up to her again, this time prepared for a fight.

He dodged her kick by grabbing it with both hands, followed by a quick pull that made her head bob under the water.

He used the opportunity to let go of her leg and grabbed her arm. As she came back up for air, he reared his arm back, closed his fist, and gave her a quick blow to the face.

She swallowed water as his fist connected with her teeth. The metallic taste of blood that poured from her mouth was quickly replaced by lake water as he proceeded to put his entire weight upon her, submerging her in the process.

Her hand brushed a twig, and in a moment of blind panic, she clasped it and plunged it between his ribcage. She heard his howl of pain from under the water. When she surfaced, she noted he was crying, frantic breaths escaping him.

Good. Serves him right.

The taste of blood refilled her mouth and she realized that if he were to regain his strength; she might not be so lucky a second time. So she took a moment to calm herself and closed her eyes, brows creased in concentration. She ignored Draco's moans and focused on her wand. She felt her magic seep from her and it drew her to the right. She opened her eyes and followed it.

It was a marvel his lung hadn't collapsed.

She must not have jabbed him deep enough to pierce it.

Nevertheless, he wasn't so stupid as to pull it out in the water. With every breath the pain flared and staying afloat was becoming more difficult.

God, he hated her, with every fiber of his being. She must have found what she was looking for because she now started a front crawl to the shore. Movement on the higher ground caught his eye and he wheezed a laugh.

She wasn't going to get very far.

Hermione was renewed with hope. She was reunited with her wand, and she could now get to land and search for the boys. She would soon reach the shallow water and run to safety.

As her dominant hand rose from the water in the classic front crawl pattern, it was hit with a curse. The water swallowed her scream as her arm limped, unquestionably broken. A fusillade of more dark spells was thrown at her from above, blocking her route to safety. She could do nothing but retreat.

The glimmer of hope was ripped from her as she side stroked to escape.

But she had nowhere to go.

The lake was huge and she wasn't going to make it across. She couldn't apparate; she wasn't grounded to something to take off from.

It was her turn to cry as she helplessly swam away from shore, water being blasted all around her.

She expected to be hit at any given moment.

As she swam back in the general direction of Malfoy, she realized that if she made it, she could take a page from his book and use him as a human shield.

The idea gave her renewed her strength, and she picked up the pace to reach him. He was barely treading water when she did, only his face breaching the surface. With her left arm, she made a show of pointing her wand at him, using only her legs to keep her afloat.

The firing ceased.

"Piss off," he croaked.

She jabbed her wand under his jaw as a response.

"Won't matter."

"I think it does."

"Not for long," he wheezed.

Unbelievably, as soon as the words left his mouth, spells were fired from the cliff, like arrows, soaring high into the air before they crashed into the lake before them, each one coming ever closer.

Hermione noticed curses didn't stop when they reached the water but seemed to be going straight _through_ it.

She assumed the increase in spells meant their back up had arrived.

Draco took her confusion as an opening and made a grab for her wand.

"Stupefy!" Was her unthinking response and he was knocked out cold.

She looked up again and watched in horror as the sky lit up in red; over fifty curses began raining down her way.

She couldn't outswim them.

Something brushed her leg and she jerked her head down. Malfoy's sinking body gave her a theoretical solution.

She held her breath and dived in after him; her good arm outstretched, reaching to him. As the water began to glow red from above, she grabbed his shoulder, wrapped her legs around him, and practically screamed in her mind a place she knew she would be safe.

As the spells pierced the water, they apparated.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a busy morning for Mrs. Weasley.

Arthur had received news that Ronald's involvement at the Malfoy Manor was known amongst the ranks of the death eaters. Since Ron was supposedly at home sick for the past couple of months, the suspicions of the family being "blood traitors" with ties to the Order were reinforced.

With the death eaters aware, and well infiltrated within the ministry of magic, the Weasley's were currently packing up and going into hiding.

The Burrow was no longer safe.

Dishes were packing themselves into open boxes, cutleries were lining up to be washed, and all manners of kitchen cloths were folding in on themselves, creating neat piles on the table.

Molly sadly glanced around her kitchen.

In a couple of hours, she would be leaving her home, where she had raised way too many boys and a most loving daughter. She blinked when she heard a loud splash on the deck and jumped after a loud thud followed.

"Arthur!?"

When a female cry pierced the air, she grabbed her wand off the counter and ran outside.

In the middle of her soaked deck was Hermione Granger, who was lying atop another.

"Hermione?"

With a great deal of pain and exhaustion, Hermione released her vice-grip on Malfoy and rolled onto her back.

Mrs. Weasley took a moment of consideration before addressing the secret password all members of the Order knew. Better to be safe then to assume and be sorry.

"What is Honeydukes special today?"

"Bertie Botts every flavor...every flavor..." but she wasn't able to finish her sentence and passed out.

"She didn't say it all the way," Came Mr. Weasley from behind Molly.

"She was clearly going to. That's good enough for me!" She stated starting to walk towards Hermione.

"Is that who I think it is?" Said Arthur as he noticed the other limp body.

Molly stopped in her tracks.

"Is he dead?" He pushed.

"I don't know."

Arthur pointed his wand at Draco's chest.

"One way find out," Molly stepped out of his way. "Innervate!"

A fountain of water dislodged itself from inside Draco's chest and he immediately rolled onto his unwounded side to puke it out.

"Incarcerous!"

Thick rope rapidly wrapped around Draco and a cry of pain escaped him as they tightened. The friction and pressure on the stick between his ribs only injured him worse.

"Still alive then," said Mr. Weasley "We should call Remus."

Watching the young Malfoy struggle against his binds made both Weasleys uncomfortable.

"That would be best," Molly finally responded and proceeded to go inside to call the previous defense against the dark arts professor.

Arthur, wand still pointed at Draco observed the scene in front of him.

It was quite unbelievable really.

They hadn't heard from Ron, Harry or Hermione in months. To have her suddenly appear on his doorstep with Draco Malfoy was most unusual.

The young man was avidly glaring at him and noticeably using shallow, measured breaths.

He flicked his gaze to Hermione, still unconscious.

Her lip was busted and he noticed several random bruises.

A dejected appearance overtook him as his gaze swept across her arm, it didn't quite look right.

He kept silent, wand still hovering as the boy defiantly looked up at him.

"Who do we have here?"

"Ah, Remus, I assume Molly's already filled you in."

"She has." He said as he overlooked the pair, hands finding his pockets.

"Let's bring them in," he added. "No point in keeping them out here."

Remus assisted Malfoy to his feet and with the okay from Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley levitated Hermione inside to one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Malfoy was nudged onto a second-hand couch that sported several holes brought on by years of use.

He audaciously gave his old professor a dirty look.

"It's been quite a long time since we've last spoken Draco"-

"It's Malfoy."

"Yes, well would you care to explain your presence alongside Miss Granger?"

Draco tightened his jaw and kept it shut.

He had no business with this dog. Besides, werewolves gave him the creeps.

"What does our guest have to say?" Asked Arthur as he strode back into the room.

"Nothing yet. I don't think he'll be a willing participant today. How is Hermione?"

"She'll be alright. A broken arm and a split lip. I think she's mostly exhausted. Nothing Molly hasn't dealt with before."

Their interest fell back to Draco, his grey eyes shone steadily at them, but his pain betrayed him as his chest rose and fell in heaves.

Remus almost felt sorry for him.

"I tell you what Draco - "

"Malfoy."

"If you tell us what happened, we'll stabilize your wound for you."

Draco's attention shifted between the two as he considered it.

"Granger stabbed me with a stick."

"That's not what I meant."

"Granger kicked me in the stomach, then stabbed me with a stick."

"Draco."

"What do you want from me?"

"Why are you here with Hermione?"

"Because weasel can't deflect worth shit."

Remus closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Who is weasel?" Asked Mr. Weasley as he took a step in his direction.

Draco snickered.

"Are Harry and Ronald safe?" Asked Lupin, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Like I would tell you."

Something in Mr. Weasley broke, he walked to sit on the table in front of Draco and put his hands on its surface.

"Mr. Malfoy, I haven't seen my son in months. If you could give us any indication on - "

"No doubt my father has them by now; packaged up and ready to be delivered to the Dark Lord."

The color of Mr. Weasley's face washed away as professor Lupin grabbed his arm and guided him out of the room.

"Why don't you go check on Molly...She might need some help with Hermione."

Mr. Weasley paused to compose himself before nodding his head in defeat.

"I'll stay with our pleasant guest" Remus added, trying to lighten the mood.

Mr. Weasley hesitated.

"Go on Arthur; Draco won't say much to us at the moment. If he does, it'll only be taunts and hotheaded reactions. He was the same in school. I can handle him."

Mr. Weasley gave him another nod and disappeared up the stairs.

Remus sighed as he watched him go and turned his head back to the living room. It was going to be a rather long day.


	4. Chapter 4

When Hermione awoke, the sun was already peaked. Her broken arm was in a sling but other than that she felt replenished. Someone had dressed her in loose men's pajamas and draped her original clothes at the end of the bed.

She threw the covers and got off the bed, walking over to the mirror behind the open closet door.

She would have never guessed she had been in battle earlier that morning. Her lip was healed, and her skin adorned a fresh glow, without the cuts and bruises she knew she had acquired. She squinted as she took a closer look at the top of her left ear. It looked as if someone had cleanly cut it off with a pair of scissors.

New battle scar she supposed. It was hardly noticeable anyway.

She turned to walk back to the bed and picked up the clothes she had worn earlier that day. She hadn't realized how torn they were.

"Well, these are now garbage," she said, letting them fall back on the bed, not bothering to try to mend them.

Looking around the room she saw it was quite empty. She recognized the space, so she knew she was still at the Weasley's. Only the bed, the mirror, and an old flower pot on the window sill remained. Unusual.

She turned back to the mirror to give herself another look. Her curves had filled out a little over the years, but she still couldn't tame the mess she called her hair.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts as Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

She ran to Hermione with open arms.

"Oh! Hermione! We were so worried. What on earth happened to you?"

Hermione smiled at the warmth that seemingly poured from the elder woman and explained the events of the morning. It crushed her to tell Mrs. Weasley that she had no idea if her son and Harry had made it to safety.

"Well, at least you're safe now," said Mrs. Weasley, offering Hermione a small smile.

Wait a minute.

"What happened to Malfoy?" asked Hermione.

"He's still here. Oh not to worry, Remus has him tied up good." She added when she saw Hermione's horrified expression.

"Is that Professor Lupin I heard downstairs?"

"Yes, we called him when we first noticed the young Malfoy boy. We weren't' quite sure how the Order would want to handle the situation".

Hermione nodded. Malfoy was no longer her concern. If they took him back to headquarters the Order may be able to extract valuable information from him.

"Thank you for tending to me Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh my goodness no need to thank me. I couldn't' salvage the top of your ear but another couple of days and those bones will be completely mended." She said pointing to her arm.

"That's amazing."

"All in a day's work for a mother dear," Molly's gaze shifted to her other arm. "I do want to apologize Hermione. I don't know who wrote that awful word on your forearm, but I wasn't able to heal it. I'm afraid you might need someone more specialized in the removal of curses to get it off..."

"I appreciate the effort, Mrs. Weasley," she said as she pulled back the heavy pajama sleeve to take another look at the word _mudblood_ carved there.

"Compliments of Bellatrix Lestrange."

Molly stood in shock for a moment. "Well," she said pensively. "I hope I never have to meet such a terrible person."

Hermione hoped she was right.

The wound had started scarring over, and she didn't know how to get rid of it. She had already tried suggestions from the various first aid and remedies against dark curses books she carried in her bag. With every potion and incantation she tried, the word only sizzled and grew dark.

"Now enough of that, I put your bag and wand with your clothes at the end of the bed there."

"Yes, I saw that, thank you. Would you happen to have any other clothes I could have? I fear those ones might be unsalvageable and I only packed four outfits."

"In fact, I think I do," Molly exited the room and returned a moment later with a school uniform.

"You left this last time you visited."

"It's perfect." She replied. It wasn't. The skirt alone was totally impractical. Chances are she would never wear it.

"Well, Remus has been waiting downstairs for you. I expect he'd like to see you now that you're awake."

"Yes, of course, I'll be right down."

With a last hug, Mrs. Weasley made her way down the stairs.

Hermione walked to her bag and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a dark flower pattern top to change in. As per habit, she tied her bag to her belt and pocketed her wand before heading downstairs.

Hushed voices came up from the ground floor.

Most likely Mrs. Weasley relaying her story to the others. When she heard Harry and Ron's name, she wondered where they could be. If they were safe.

Hermione took her time; gliding down every step. She observed the dark squares that adorned the spots where picture frames once hung. The Weasley's was her home away from home, and now it would apparently be lost to her too.

The muffled voices came to a halt as she stepped off the last stair. She first noticed professor Lupin leaning against the kitchen table.

"Miss Granger! So good to see you again. I see Mrs. Weasley has done a fantastic job fixing you up."

"She has," Hermione replied and offered a small smile.

Draco screamed against his gag in frustration from the living room.

"Ah yes, I'd had almost forgotten about our guest," stated Remus.

Hermione took a couple of steps towards the living room and peeked around its corner.

Malfoy was bound by a surplus of ropes and had what seemed to be a large handkerchief muffling him. He sort of resembled an overgrown worm lying down across the couch.

She turned back to the adults in the kitchen.

"Right. It's about time we head out then," said Arthur as he looked up from his watch.

"Where will you be going?" She asked the Weasley's.

As Arthur opened his mouth to answer, a knock came from the front door.

Remus turned to Mr. Weasley.

"Were you expecting somebody Arthur?"

"No."

Nodding, Remus made a show of removing his wand from his pocket.

"Wands out at the ready then."

Hermione reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wand, walking over to stand behind professor Lupin.

"Not a sound." Whispered Remus.

Malfoy's hollering became louder, trying to be noticed by whoever was at the door.

Hermione held her breath and quickly made her way back to the living room, ignoring professor Lupin's panicked glance.

Malfoy had squirmed off the couch and was desperately trying to be noticed from his position on the floor.

"Silencio" she breathed.

Malfoy's cries were instantly silenced.

The front door unlocked, pushed open, and three men wearing ministry attire entered the house.

"Moving Arthur?" said the first of them as he looked around. He had a crooked wand that he manipulated to point straight to Mr. Weasley as he walked around the kitchen, seemingly unfazed that the three others had their wands raised.

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Odd," He stopped across the table from them. "I don't recall you informing the ministry of your decision."

One of the other officials placed himself in front of the door while the other idly paced the floor.

"Last minute decision I'm afraid," replied Mr. Weasley.

"It's an action that will be taken into account upon your hearing." The man replied.

"What hearing?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

He leisurely rounded the table to approach her, taking off his gloves as he did.

"Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Molly Weasley, you are hereby under arrest for the aid and concealment of information regarding undesirable number one; Harry James Potter."

"I'm sure the Weasley family haven't a clue to what you're talking about sir," spoke Professor Lupin.

"Don't lie to us!" the man snapped. "We have eyewitnesses tying one Ronald Billius Weasley to the recent escape of the previously detained Potter."

He turned to Hermione.

"There was also a girl present." He started walking towards her. "An unregistered mudblood named Granger." His eyes landed on her scar.

Hermione tightened her grip as one of her feet unintentionally stepped back.

"I've got someone here Davies"

All eyes turned to the third ministry official now holding the binds of an angry-looking Malfoy.

"Good God," said the man known as Davies. "That's Lucius's boy."

The other two officials now raised their wand as well.

"You can add a charge of kidnapping to your sentence, Weasley." He added as he snapped his head back to Arthur.

"Donovan, immediately send word to Malfoy Manor and inform Lucius his son has been found," stated Davies as he jerked his hand and Malfoy was released from his bindings.

As the man at the door began the expecto patronum charm, Remus expelled his wand before he could finish the incantation.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cautioned Davies. "That's a ministry official you just disarmed."

"You'll need to forgive me sir, but the Malfoy boy must stay with us."

"Watch yourself, lad. If it's a fight you want, we'll give it to you."

No one answered. Remus up kept the man's stare.

Still, he ended up breaking the silence.

"Well, no avoiding it then. Expelliarmus!"


	5. Chapter 5

All hell broke loose.

Draco watched as Davies blocked professor Lupin's spell and ducked as Granger sent a stupefying charm to the guy beside him. He ripped the gag from his mouth and threw himself behind the wall that separated the sad piece they called a kitchen to that shabby excuse of a living room.

He immediately regretted the action as he slid his arse to the floor, his injury instantly reminding him that he was in no shape to break out into a run.

He brought a shaking hand to the twig still poking out from his chest.

His silk blue shirt was now unrecognizably red and moist as it dripped down from the wound. Carefully letting go of it, he looked at his hand.

He grimaced and looked away.

He needed to get out of here.

The shattering of a nearby window seemed to emphasize his thought so he stabilized his wound again with his bloody hand and pushed himself back up.

Even if he had his wand, he knew he wasn't strong enough to apparate by himself. It was a miracle he didn't get splinched when Granger tried it earlier that morning.

He let out a cry of frustration. But it fell deaf to his ears. Granger's silencing spell was apparently still in effect.

With a bitter huff, he started to move.

He had no clue where to go.

He also had to stop every three steps because breathing was now a chore and it was getting really annoying.

He made it to the back of a hallway and leaned against the wall to give himself another respite. His eyes closed as a spout of lightheadedness surged.

When he opened them again, a backdoor came into view.

_Finally!_

* * *

Hermione ran and ducked behind the living room couch as one of its cushions' exploded, sending feathers flying everywhere.

Professor Lupin seemed to be handling Davies alright on his own, having blasted him through the front door and chasing after him.

She stood up, sent another stun, and plopped back down for cover.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be doing alright as well. The ministry official they were fighting was on the defensive; being the unfortunate bloke that had to deal with two against one.

That left the last one to her.

Thus she continued her game of pop goes the weasel with the man named Donovan.

Adrenaline surged through her when more feathers exploded, this time right near her head.

That one was _way_ too close.

She stayed crouched for a moment, quickly trying to formulate her next plan of action when a surprised shout came from the kitchen.

"Molly!"

_Oh no_.

"Protego!" Shouted Hermione as she held her wand up and made a break for Mrs. Weasley.

Her temporary shield held up as Donovan advanced and joined his colleagues in the kitchen.

She stopped for a moment, dead in her tracks as she saw Mrs. Weasley on the floor, unresponsive.

Davies emerged from outside and now joined his colleague.

Roles were reversed as a distraught Mr. Weasley stood in front of his unconscious wife, deflecting spell after spell.

Professor Lupin was nowhere in sight.

"Stupify!" Cried Hermione as her vision blurred up with tears.

Her spell hit the unnamed official who hadn't seen her coming and he crashed against the kitchen sink, out cold.

"Stay out of this you meddlesome girl," growled Davies.

He jerked his wand above his head, "Fyrefiriendis!"

Hermione jumped back as a wall of flame erupted from Davies' wand. It cut off her sight to the kitchen; she couldn't see what was happening to the Weasley's.

The flames burned from the floor and rose until they licked the ceiling in front of her.

"Aguamentis!" She tried. The water flew out from her wand and crashed into the wall of fire, sizzling into steam.

But the fire continued to roar, unbothered.

"Aguamentis!" She tried again. Same result.

She swerved her head looking around for anything useful. The house was empty. Save for the couch. But that wouldn't do her any good.

No problem, she reasoned, she'd surprise them from behind.

Hermione took off running to the back door. It was already opened so she ran through it and hurried along the edge of the house back to the front porch.

By the time she reached the front, the house had become quiet.

She halted and pressed her back against the wall near the kitchen window.

A growl of anger filled the air.

"Tell no one of this," said Davies.

No one answered.

Hermione craned her head to look inside.

Davies was leaning against the sink, his back to her, and was blocking her view of the rest of the kitchen.

Her sneakers crunched shattered glassed on the deck and she snapped her head back away from the window.

Wand semi-raised, she waited as her heart pumped in rapid beats.

Nothing happened. No movement or talking.

But she knew they were still in there.

She weighed the risk between being discovered and taking another look inside.

She decided it was worth it.

Carefully placing her foot back on the glass, she held her breath and slowly moved her head back to the broken window, wand at the ready.

To her surprise, Davies was gone and the kitchen was empty.

Hermione frowned and creased her brows in confusion. She hadn't heard sounds of apparition let alone footsteps. Where did they go?

The floorboards behind her creaked.

She threw her hand out faster than her head turned. 

To her dismay, her wand was ripped from her hand.

* * *

He slammed the door open as he forced his legs forward, sluggishly descending the porch steps onto the dry grass. His breath was ragged and excruciating.

Draco looked around. No other buildings in sight. No tree line. Just an excess of tall grass and marshland.

He spun around again.

Nothing. The Weasley shack was truly in the middle of nowhere.

A woman's cry emitted from inside the house behind him. It made his head swim.

Or maybe it was the blood loss.

He walked to the tall grass and crouched there. Hopefully, the ministry officials would make quick work of them and then he could go home.

A bubble rose in his throat. He tried to push it down but it only grew bigger. Hacking for a moment, he managed to cough it out.

Movement from the porch caught his eye and he watched as Hermione quickly crept around the house to the front.

_Brilliant._

He stumbled getting back up but found the momentum to sneak after her. Granger hadn't even noticed the rustle of the grass he'd emerged from.

He heard himself breathing rather loudly as he approached the deck and snapped his jaw shut.

The first breath through his nose didn't satisfy his lungs.

God, she would pay for stabbing him. Tenfold.

He loosened his jaw just enough to let in small amounts of puffs that would go unnoticed.

She was peeking inside the kitchen now.

Was she trying to get a cheap shot at a ministry official?

That wasn't very noble. How very Slytherin of her. He dismissed the idea the minute it entered his head.

When she whipped her head back around and slammed her back to the side of the house, he ducked. _Way_ to fast.

He shook his head as his vision swam before him.

He only had one shot at this.

When she turned to look back into the kitchen again, he lounged onto the deck, her wand the only thing in his sight.

* * *

He just ripped it out of her hand. As if she had barely been holding it at all.

Hermione slowly raised her good arm in surrender as her own wand pointed back to her nose.

"Malfoy, give me back my wand," she whispered.

He opened his mouth to retort but no sound came out. Her silence charm was still in effect.

A little more confident, she tried again.

"If you return me my wand, I can lift the spell."

He sneered at her, revealing bloody teeth.

That'd be a no then.

Rustling from inside the house caught her attention but no one was there. She looked back at Malfoy, finding him leaning against the house, panting but wand still facing her.

He raised his eyebrows and jerked her wand to the house before pointing it back to her.

He was planning on handing her over.

Not happening.

Despite his confident demeanor, she wasn't feeling very threatened. He looked rather pathetic really.

Still, he had her wand.

With a little Gryffindor courage, she pushed past him hoping to make it to the tall grass behind the house. He hadn't yet cursed her, so she was banking on him not knowing any useful wordless magic to stop her.

She slowed down about halfway around the house.

If that was the case, why didn't she take back her wand from him? Even with her broken arm, she would clearly still be able to get it. She couldn't apparate without it anyway.

She did a one-eighty midstride.

Malfoy had just got off the last porch step, his injury noticeably taking its toll.

It was almost laughable. She mentally patted herself on the back for a job well done.

The determination in her eyes must have scared him because he raised her wand at her again and started to back up.

She reached him quickly and stretched for her wand with her good arm. He raised it over his head and out of her reach, his other hand still holding his wound.

She used it to her advantage and made a slow and obvious attempt to strike his chest. He instantly coiled in on himself, his hand descending in the process.

Hermione grabbed her wand and pulled.

Surprisingly, he held tight and when she didn't dislodge it he pulled back.

The change in momentum threw off her balance and they both tumbled to the ground.

Her wand was dropped.

She was closer to it.

As she reached for it, Draco picked up a rock. He brought it up high and smashed it against the deck, over and over again.

He was trying to signal the ministry officials, she realized.

When Hermione had a firm grip on her wand, she closed her eyes and thought of the first forest her, Harry and Ron even hid in.

Hearing footsteps rush his way, Draco used the last of his strength to grab a fistful of the bottom of her jeans. Hopefully, she would trip when she tried to make a run for it.

Suddenly, an uncomfortable pull at his navel immediately made him nauseous.

As the world around them distorted and vanished, the last of his strength completely left him.


	6. Chapter 6

The forest materialized before her. Hermione took in a deep breath as she looked around from the forest floor. Birds chirped and trees glowed a healthy green.

Just how she remembered it.

It made her long for the company of her boys. She almost smiled thinking about how Ron's constant comical complaining made Harry's gloomy nature seem a little less bleak. Funny how you miss the oddest things about the people you care about.

As Hermione rose to set up her usual wards, a branch caught her foot.

She rolled her eyes up in annoyance.

The pain potion must be wearing off as a throbbing ache resettled in her broken arm.

She closed her eyes in frustration.

As soon as she finished the wards, she would take an analgesic from her supplies, set up her tent, and rest while she figured out a way to find Harry and Ron.

She nodded her head. Good plan.

Without bothering to look down she gave the branch a disheartened kick and marched forward. The branch dislodged and a whoosh of air escaped it.

_A whoosh of..._

An expiration.

She whipped around, wand already in her hand as she looked down.

There lay Draco Malfoy; on his side, arm slightly outstretched from her kick and completely and utterly unconscious.

She should probably check. Just to be sure.

She bent down and picked up a small-sized rock. Then she threw it at him.

He didn't react.

_Great_.

Now she had to deal with Malfoy. A _gain_.

She could leave him.

But she would be risking him possibly waking up and trying to hunt her down again. Not to mention he still had valuable information the Order could use. Problem was she didn't currently know where headquarters was located. Hogwarts was still out of the question, Snape being headmaster and all...

He still hadn't moved.

She just about uttered the body binding spell but stopped.

He was really pale. Dead-like.

She sucked in a breath, looking around and anxiously tapped her wand against her thigh. It didn't seem as though they had been followed.

Her eyes darted back to him. He was really hurt. If she wanted to keep him hostage then she needed him alive.

But reverse the tables and he'd have left her to die without a second thought. How much would it matter in the long run if she left him?

She let out a frustrated groan.

She had a limited amount of first aid ingredients and most of them she had already used on Ron. Furthermore, if she ran out of ingredients helping Malfoy she might not have enough for herself. Her broken arm would mend during the next couple of days and she would have no pain relief to help.

Shame flooded her.

Since when had she become so selfish? She was watching a human being suffer and all she could think about was her herself.

She was nothing like him and she would prove it. Not for him, but for herself.

She conjured two ropes before shoving her wand into her pocket and proceeding to awkwardly tie his arms behind his back and his legs together. It was difficult with her handicapped arm still in a sling.

She then rolled him onto his back. She untied her extendable pouch from her waist, reached inside, and dug until she found scissors. She quickly cut his shirt from the button line to the stick, slowing down a bit near the wound, and then dropped the scissors back into the bag.

She hesitated for only a moment before she grabbed his soaked shirt and pulled it until most of the buttons came off.

His skin was soaked in blood and sweat; the smell was horrid.

She reached into her bag once more, pulling out what resembled a crystal perfume bottle. Less than half of its content remained.

She pulled off the cap and reached down to grab the stick protruding from his chest. She would need to be faster than the blood waiting to pool out from it.

She counted to three and pulled.

Malfoy howled in agony and rolled onto his side in a reflex.

"Oh no!" she panicked as saw a fresh pool of blood gush from the gaping wound.

She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back.

As she let go of his shoulder to grab her wand, he started to roll onto his side once more.

"Stop it!" she shrieked.

But Malfoy was delirious with pain and her words fell on deaf ears.

Losing time, she replaced her hand with her knee and grabbed her wand.

"Augamenti," she said, pointing it at his wound.

Blood splashed away from it and she quickly poured the green potion into the gaping hole.

She dropped the bottle and quickly bent forward to put both her hands atop it, applying all her weight and praying for the best.

Malfoy squirmed underneath her, cutting his own cries short as if every breath was too unbearable to finish.

Finally, he stopped.

She looked at his face from her perch above him.

He was passed out again.

Slowly, she released the pressure of her hands on his injury.

When no blood seeped, she deemed it safe to peek underneath. New tissue had partially formed. The hole was sealed over, but it looked deformed, angry, and red; like a second degree burn.

She let out a sigh of exhaustion and sat down.

The wound still had healing to do. She picked up her bag and returned the empty vial inside of it.

Deciding she deserved it, she pulled up the whiskey container holding her analgesic potion and took a swing from it. Its immediate effects made her close her eyes and sigh in relief.

She looked back down to Malfoy whose breathing had returned to normal. It seemed like he would be out for a while.

She swished the contents of her container.

Half a bottle left. Both of them would be in pain. The little flask wouldn't last very long.

Taking one last deep breath, she pulled herself to her feet.

She still had a camp and wards to set up.

* * *

Hermione sat in front of the fire outside the tent. She had double and triple checked the wards this time. She just couldn't figure out how the snatchers had found them. She went over it for a third time. She didn't miss anything. All her spells had been properly incanted and she had done her usual walk around the perimeter every two hours. Nothing. No clue as to how they had been discovered.

She looked over at Malfoy, still unconscious where she had left him. Perhaps she would be able to get him to tell her.

_Doubtful._

Her stomach gave a growl so she pulled a power bar from her bag. She had enough snacks to last her another week.

Her thoughts floated back to Harry and Ron. She had the bag. They had nothing. No food, no provisions, no shelter.

She had confidence they would manage. She just needed to formulate a plan to find them.

A pained groan caught her attention.

If only she wasn't stuck with _him_ and his deadweight.

She got up and walked over to Draco as the sun shined its last ray'-s through the trees.

He was mumbling in his sleep; and he was sweating again. It was early to be developing an infection, but if he was, he was on his own to fight it off. She used the last of her healing potion on him.

Deciding it was time to retreat for the night; she pulled out her wand and levitated him into the tent.

She gently placed him onto Harry's bed and made sure the binding of his hands and feet were secure. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up and attack her while she slept.

She walked over to her bed and hid her wand in her pillow cover. Just in case.

She relaxed as she listened to his groans and moans.

It humanized him.

Hearing an adversary cry out in pain and fear was sobering and she was once again reminded that they were at war.

Nothing about this was going to be pleasant.

* * *

The next two days were uneventful. She spent her time looking for edible herbs, potion ingredients, and reading from the books she had. He would drift in and out of consciousness, always incoherent and never fully awake. Her arm was now out of the sling and her whiskey flask was just about empty.

She had been outside all morning, practicing what she would say to him for when he woke up.

"Oh hello, I healed you and kept you safe these past couples of days, would you mind telling me how you and your dad found us?" she sarcastically said aloud.

No that won't do.

She tried again, really trying to get into it.

"Now you listen here; you are alone, wandless and without me, you'd be dead."

She groaned in defeat. If Harry were here he'd handle this.

She solemnly looked at the tent.

But he wasn't.

And she was the one who was alone.

Her shoulders slumped as she headed inside to grab another book.

Taking the first couple of steps inside, she gagged.

The smell was foul.

Was this what she had been living in? How had she not notice?

She looked at Malfoy. He was still in his stained clothes. The layers of sweat and blood hadn't been touched.

No amount of scourgify was going to clean him.

He needed a bath.

She gagged again.

Desperately.

She grabbed her wand out of her pants and levitated him.

This was happening. 

Much to her horror; she was going to bathe Draco Malfoy.

* * *

She walked with him levitating in front of her almost fifteen minutes before they reached the nearby lake.

She gently placed him on the rough sand at her usual bathing spot.

How on earth was she going to do this? What if he woke up?

She dipped her hand in the water.

It was really cold.

Deciding she would dry her clothes off later, she quickly thought of her plan of action, taking off her shoes and socks and stepped into the water.

When she reached hip deep, she levitated him once more, this time bringing him to her.

God, she hated going into the lake. She wished for a real bath, or a hot tub, or even a volcano at this point.

She prepared herself and grabbed one of his elbow's as she slowly lowered him into the water and then relaxed when he didn't react.

Bringing a knee up to support his upper back, she put her wand back into her pocket. His head bobbed back and she panicked, grabbing it before his nose submerged.

She gave a nervous laugh after she stabilized his floating body. No one would believe her if she ever recounted this moment.

With one hand keeping his head afloat and her knee stabilizing his torso, she reached into her front pocket hand pulled out the bar of soap.

Just the essentials.

She began scrubbing the soap onto his chest and made a face when the blood easily came off.

She did his neck, his arms, and his back, as far as his open shirt would let her. She was quite proud of herself actually; she was pulling off this balancing task quite well.

She tried to ignore the floating blood that surrounded them.

She made sure to go around his wound gently and then made her way to his navel.

That should do it. No more needed. Mandrakes would sing before she would touch any more of this man.

She pocketed the newly pebble-sized soap and grabbed her wand.

As she levitated him out, she noticed she was absolutely freezing and her shivering hand was making Malfoy's levitating body shake.

She gently placed him on the ground and gave her wand a complicated wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed it to her clothes and extremities, which steamed as they dried out.

Now dry and warm, she turned her wand to Malfoy and waited for the water to evaporate from his front.

When she was satisfied, she rolled him onto his side and proceeded to dry off his back. The sand from the beach clung to him as he dried and she figured she would pat it off outside the tent when they returned. With that thought, she levitated him once more.

It was more difficult going uphill with him. She had to maneuver him around the trees and branches that seemed to be working against her.

Pausing before the campsite, she noticed his body had accumulated a number of scratches from the bramble.

She put him down on a towel in front of her tent and used it to help her brush off the dry sand from his back.

As her hand swatted at him, she noticed Malfoy was built a little like Harry, taller and slightly larger since she saw him, but both men were slender. Despite buying his way onto the Quidditch team, Malfoy had become quite a good athlete and he was the only real challenge Harry ever had to deal with on the field. Like Harry, his physique reflected his training.

When she got most of the sand off, she levitated him into the tent and back onto Harry's bed.

* * *

She managed to gather a few forest ingredients for a locator charm and she organized them in their respective compartments inside her bag. The sun had set and the campfire glow was on the verge of disappearing. The little floating ball of paper she had set fire to was her only real lighting as it slowly burned above her inside the tent.

She pulled out the little glass bottle that, until recently, contained the last of her healing potion and held it out in front of her.

How could she make use of this newly emptied item?

The glow of her little fire highlighted the Mudblood engraving on her arm.

It was hideous.

Anger and resentment bubbled within her; she vigorously rubbed at it. Nothing she had tried had fixed it. Mrs. Weasley was right, it was definitely cursed.

The firelight that reflected onto the crystal made her look at the bottle again. She unscrewed the lid and furiously dabbed the opening of the bottle to her scar. Hidden drops escaped and moistened the skin. She stopped for a moment as the skin became bright red, the letters accentuated onto her pale arm before sizzling back into scar tissue.

She sighed in disappointment.

Same result as the last time.

"That's pathetic," croaked Malfoy.

Hermione almost dropped the bottle.

He was awake.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're awake," she stated. "How are you feeling?"

"Like utter shit."

"It could have been worse," she said as she began searching her bag for the flask.

"Would have been better had you drowned," he sneered.

"I saved your life," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You would have been my murderer if you hadn't. I know you Granger, it's not something you could've lived with."

She finally pulled out the painkiller and perched herself on the side of the bed.

"Don't psychoanalyze me. You used me as a human shield and then tried to drown me. I wouldn't have reacted that way if I wasn't fearing for my life."

She got up from her bed and walked over to him, swishing the contents of the flask.

"Here," she said. "It'll help with the pain" she added when he didn't make a move to grab it.

"What's in it?"

"A mixture of Murtlap and Dittany essence."

"You combined them? Didn't anyone ever teach you not to play with drugs?"

"I couldn't care less Malfoy, either you take it or you don't."

Draco paused before becoming impatient.

"Well give it to me then, I can't bloody well drink it on my own with my hands tied can I?"

She pulled out her wand and vanished the ropes around his wrists, keeping the wand strained on him as she handed him the flask.

"One or two sips will do," she instructed.

Draco ignored her and took a full swing.

"I said a sip," she snapped as she yanked it out of his hand.

It was practically empty now. She creased her brows in anger.

"Now there's none left for either of us."

"I won't need anymore," he stated.

"And what about me?" She crossed her arms.

"I couldn't care less," he said as he started pulling ropes off his feet.

She knew it to be true.

"You're still my hostage," she stated, watching him.

"Sure Granger."

"I mean it; try to run and I'll be forced to stop you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he answered.

He was being awfully calm she noticed. They weren't yet yelling or tearing each other's heads off. It was unnerving.

"I mean it," she pushed.

"I'm sure you do."

He swung his legs out to the side of the bed and got up to stretch.

He stopped and looked at his open chest.

"Did you undress me?"

"You needed a wash."

His mouth curled in disgust, his eyes becoming angry.

"Don't touch me Granger," he snarled. "Ever."

"Your corpse was rotting the tent."

"So you left my shirt open to remunerate yourself for your hard work then?"

"No, I didn't want to touch you any more than necessary," she said uncomfortably.

"You're just sad Granger, you should have asked the Weasel or Pothead to get you off when you had the chance."

Her elbow snapped open as she fiercely threatened him with her wand.

"Piss off Malfoy,"

"Think I'm afraid of _you_? You won't do anything Granger. Your Gryffindor morals and ethics make you weak and predictable."

"Push me enough and find out" she replied.

"Please," he spat and stepped out of the tent. "Don't make me laugh."

She followed him.

"And where do you think you are going?"

"Somewhere you won't get a free show," he marched while buttoning up his top.

He noticed the cut in it and stopped in his tracks. He turned to her and pointed to it.

"What the _fuck_ did you do to my shirt?"

She stopped.

"How did you think I got the stick out? I needed to see what I was doing."

"This shirt," he said, grabbing a fistful for emphasis, "costs more than you're worth."

"No object is worth more than a person Malfoy," she said, her cheeks flaming.

He stepped forward into her personal space.

"When the dark lord becomes supreme, you'll most likely be worth less than one of the hand-me-down robes the Weasley's keep sharing."

"There's nothing wrong with a good set of-"

"Fix this," he cut her off, pulling at the cut material.

"I...no."

"No?"

"I said no, Malfoy. Ask me nicely, thank me for saving your life, and apologize for your rude behavior and I _might_ consider it."

He sneered at her as he considered her words. Her audacity was outrageous. She truly had no sense of how little she belonged in his world.

"Useless mudblood," he said as he turned to walk away.

It stung every time she heard the phrase. Not only because it was demeaning but because it came from someone like him. A person who had never been shown the true value of another human being.

She had enough.

She outstretched her arm to him.

"Say that word one more time," she spoke quietly.

He stopped and turned halfway. His eyes fell to the wand in her hand.

"Or what, Granger?" He smiled before laughing. "Going to stab me again? Tie me up?"

He moved closer and held up his blistered wrist, "maybe burn me?"

She glared at him, anger filling her, but eventually dropped her arm.

He huffed as he turned back to walk towards the edge of her wards, "predictable."

Hermione took a few steps after him. Her anger boiled over as tears threatened to fall. He was such a bully. He hadn't changed at all.

He stopped at the edge of her wards and looked around.

She stopped as well.

He fidgeted with his burnt wrist while he stood there, as if he were waiting on the night bus to show up.

She waited silently.

He dropped his hands and huffed again.

Aggravation growing, he turned twice, looking more and more confused.

What was he doing?

"Where are we Granger?"

She kept silent.

He turned to look at her once more.

"No bother. It's only a matter of time before my father finds us," he said. "When he does I can't wait to see what'll become of you."

She bristled.

"Where did you get your newfound bravery from, Malfoy? As I recall you tend to run scared when you're alone and defenseless."

"I think I've proven I'm in not much danger," he smirked. Then as if another thought crossed his mind he waggled his eyebrows. "Besides, think of the fun we can have while we wait."

"Don't even think about it," she said, catching his double entendre.

He snickered, "in your dreams Granger. A house-elf is more appealing."

She raised her wand to him and shot two ropes that wound itself around his wrist and legs.

He cried in pain as its coarseness grated against his burn.

"Recess is over," she stated. "It's time to go back inside."

"You fucking _bitch_."

"Wingardium Leviosa," she said, making the motions with her wand.

He twirled in the air as she struggled to control him. Levitating his body was a lot more difficult when it was squirming.

"I'm going to kill you," he howled. "I'm going to ensure you fucking beg for mercy while I torture you."

She finally got him inside the tent, despite all the wiggling and squirming.

"You and all your little friends are going to suffer," he continued to ramble as she laid him back down on Harry's bed.

"My father's-"

"Stupify!" She loudly pronounced.

The red light smashed into his chest and he was knocked out.

Hermione let out a repressed breath and tears ran down her cheeks.

What had she been thinking?


	8. Chapter 8

Draco woke up parched and with searing pain in his chest. He groaned as he scrambled to undo his shirt and assess the damage. His chest was a shade of pink and his recovering wound was now red and angry.

The bitch had shot him point-blank.

He moaned and clutched his chest as he sat up on the side of the bed. His ankles were still tied. He looked at his hands. They were free.

He noticed a cup of water beside his bed. Grabbing it, he guzzled down the liquid.

"Thought you might need that," said Hermione.

Draco looked over at her; she was crouched and stuffing small lamps, and other odd objects, into her bag.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You could have killed me, Granger."

"I stunned you."

"You just about re-opened my wound," he raised his voice.

"What's done is done; you're alive and well enough to yell at me about it," she responded dryly, standing up.

"You're such a hypocri-" he started but stopped when she flicked her wand in his direction.

The ropes at his feet unwound and disappeared. He looked at her with confusion and further suspicion.

"I need you to get out of the tent while I finish packing up," she explained.

He became alarmed but schooled his expression.

"Why are you packing?"

"Because we are leaving; it's not safe to stay in the same place for very long," she said.

With a flick of her wand, the only table and chairs in the room shrunk and flew into her bag. He kept his face passive as creeping panic settled within him. They couldn't leave. He had to ensure it.

He stood up and put his hands in his pockets, a move he hoped wouldn't catch unnecessary attention, and casually stood back.

"What about Potter and Weasley," he cautiously inquired, properly using their first names as not to insult her. Convincing her to stay was a necessity and that meant playing nice.

She glanced over at him as the beddings rolled themselves up.

"What about them?"

"They're probably out looking for you."

"I hope not," she said. "They should be focusing on their task."

"What task would that be?"

"It's not something I can discuss with you," she said as she began folding the sheets.

"Fine, but if we leave now and they do come looking for you, you're going to miss them. Then you can chase each other in circles while the dark lord grows stronger."

She became immediately suspicious of his behavior.

"Why would you care if they find me Malfoy?"

He kicked himself internally.

"I don't. The longer we stay here, the higher the chances Donovan and Davies trace us."

"So let me get this straight," she crossed her arms. "You want us to stay here in hopes that one of our respective parties' shows up to find us."

He nodded.

"Unacceptable," she dismissed him. "If Donovan and Davies are still on our tails they will track us down within the next week. I don't know if Harry and Ron are even looking for me. It's best to leave now."

"Think about it Granger, you're the brains behind whatever operation Potter and Weasley are tasked with. Chances are, they'll hit a dead-end and come searching for you."

She hesitated.

"If you lot have been running around the woods for the past couple of months, I'll bet Potter will return to the places you've been," he pressed.

"It's a possibility," she acknowledged.

Granger was an analytical thinker. Throw enough logic at her and all he had to do was wait for her to choose the most rational option. It wouldn't fail.

She mulled it over.

"Then I'll just need to leave them an indication of my presence and a hint of where they can find me next," she stated.

It failed. He resisted the urge to swear as he watched her exit the tent.

"Like what?" He snapped instead, following her.

"Well, the fire will have freshly burnt branches in the pit," she stated and looked around the forest for further ideas.

He kept his mouth shut. He wasn't about to give her any suggestions. Her eyes fell to the sand around the fire.

"Of course," she said and bent down to write the name of a location.

When she finished, she took her wand out of her pocket and pointed it to the written word.

He laughed mockingly, "A concealment charm?"

She looked to him in surprise; she hadn't even started the incantation.

"Honestly Granger, they're not that smart."

She looked as if he had insulted her, "Harry is perfectly capable of gathering the common sense to-"

"Potter's strengths lie in the defense against the dark arts, quidditch and his persistent stupidity in the face of danger-"

"You mean his bravery-"

"-while Weasley doesn't have any. If you're going to give them a hidden clue, you'd better be sure Potter can figure it out."

She frowned.

"And I don't recall either of them being exceptionally good in charms either. Expecting them to uncover a hidden message is insanely unrealistic," he finished and rubbed at his chest. His tolerance for the pain was dwindling as was his façade of keeping his cool.

He watched her grudgingly weigh the possibility of truth in his logic.

So he gave one final push and played on her empathy.

"Besides Granger, I don't think I'm ready to apparate just yet," he said, pulling open his shirt and showing her the trauma she gave him earlier.

Her face fell. She was in conflict with herself.

Bingo.

"Ok," she reluctantly agreed.

He almost let out a sigh of relief.

"Just a couple more days until you're feeling better, after that we leave," she decided and returned into the tent to unpack.

That's fine, he thought, eyes surveying the forest around them.

He suspected a few days was all he would need.

* * *

He sat down near the fire as Hermione finished unpacking.

She watched him like a hawk, ensuring he didn't attempt to make a run for it.

But for the rest of the afternoon, he remained seated and silent.

His begging for them to stay did not go unnoticed. She hadn't yet figured it out, but he was clearly up to something. She checked her wards again and again while he sat there, staring into the woods, as an extra precaution.

Part of her wanted to know what it was while part of her never wanted to find out. She hated to admit he might have made a point about the boys. If they were well then the chances were high they would be looking for her. But the dangers of snatchers, death eaters, and the corrupted ministry were prominent. Every day she stayed increased the possibility of being found and captured.

Speaking of which...

She walked to the other side of the fire and squatted, letting her gaze focus on the dancing flames.

"How did you find us Malfoy?" She asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he smirked.

She looked up to his face, "as a matter of fact, I would."

He leaned forward, sticking his face closer to the fire, as he taunted her, "it'll be a first; mudblood Granger doesn't have an answer to the question".

Blood rushed to her ears as the word easily slipped off his tongue. Her eyes returned to the fire, where she contemplated her next action. His attempts at provoking her always seemed to succeed. It took no effort from him.

She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at him.

His face contorted in fear at first, then annoyance as ropes shot out of the end of it and once again tied his wrists and ankles.

"Are you serious Granger," he groaned in frustration.

"I'm going to try to find us some food," she answered as rope length continued to pour from her wand.

"You will stay here and gather more firewood for when I return," she finished tying the end of the rope around a nearby tree.

He awkwardly pushed himself up.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" He asked, royally pissed.

"I don't know Malfoy," she smartly responded, "I don't have an answer to your question."

He stood there stunned a moment before shouting.

"And I'm not a sodding dog you tie up when you leave!"

Stepping through the foliage, a slight grin emerged on her lips.

It felt terribly good to leave him there.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco was bored. Granger had left him for over an hour now and his stomach gurgled steadily. Come to think of it he hadn't had anything to eat in almost two days. He longed for the specialty meals his mother's house-elves would make when he called for them. Always fresh and exactly how he liked it.

He looked around the forest, waiting for the cavalry to arrive. They were sure taking their sweet time.

They should have been here by now. It almost worried him. If he hadn't convinced Granger to stay a little longer he would never be found. Dread washed over him. Potter and Weasley would arrive and he would eventually be handed over to somebody completely off their rocker, like Mad-Eye-Moody, and put through "in-depth" questioning in an attempt to reveal the Dark Lords plans.

He huffed.

Little did they know, he hadn't been bestowed any useful or important information. After all, he wasn't exactly in Voldemort's good graces. His failure to kill Dumbledore had sullied the Malfoy name once more. Thus, earning him the title of coward by many in the ranks. His father, of course, had been furious. This had led to the creation of a failsafe by Bellatrix. His mother had been the only one left unruffled by his "misstep". As if she had been relieved he hadn't done it.

If he was being honest with himself, his hesitation wasn't caused by inexperience or fear...he simply couldn't go through with it. The old man had been a figure of authority since childhood and he hated to admit it, but Dumbledore had been nothing but kind. Even when he knew he didn't deserve it.

If Snape hadn't been there to finish the job...let's just say aunt "Bella" wouldn't have been so forgiving.

He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the dwindling fire.

Granger had asked him to get wood. It wasn't exactly ideal to have his hands and feet tied to do it. Best he could do was pick up surrounding twigs. He didn't bother. She could get wood herself when she came back.

He smirked a little. She would have hunted, gathered the necessary tools, _and_ cooked the food. Not much different from home after all.

A hissing by his feet caught his attention.

He looked down and yelped as a snake caught him by surprise.

Pushing his legs under him, he propelled himself backward in alarm, his feet accidentally giving it a stern hit in the process.

Assaulted, the snake reared its head and struck him in the leg.

He cried out in fear and pain as it coiled to strike again.

"Incendio!" said Hermione.

Her wand shot fire at the snake, which proceeded to burn and crumble into ashes.

She'd already been entering camp when she heard Malfoy's scream.

Draco withered in pain on the ground, his tied arms clutching his bleeding leg.

Hermione dropped down beside him and untied her bag from her waist.

"How did you anger an adder snake? They usually keep to themselves."

"The bloody thing attacked me," he cried.

"Not likely," she said, holding back an eye roll as she pulled out a small vase of anti-venom.

She unscrewed the cork and held it out to him.

"It's anti-venom."

This time he didn't hesitate and drank it.

When he finished he threw it aside.

"About time Granger, I just about died."

"You're barely bleeding and the antivenin was just a precaution," she said, leaning over to retrieve the vial.

"Antivenin?"

"Yes, that's the proper term for it."

"You're like a walking talking dictionary; any chance you could define the word hag for me?"

She sat back on her heels as she dropped the vial back into her pouch and secured it once more to her waist.

She wouldn't let him get to her this time.

"Are you quite done?"

"Not even close."

"Well, I caught a fox," she said, completely ignoring him. "Do you know how to clean it?"

The tips of his lips curled down in disgust.

"No."

She took out her wand and vanished his ropes.

"Then go grab the wood for the fire like I asked you."

"I'm not doing fuck all-" he said, leaning forward to pick at his clotted bite.

"Then you can watch as I eat the meat in front of you."

He stopped and looked up at her.

Well shit.

"You're barbaric-"

"No, I don't get served hand and foot in my big mansion with servants at my every command. Out here it's a miracle if we catch a full meal. So pull your weight or starve," she said as she began magically skinning the dead animal.

He couldn't believe the nerve. How dare she speak to him like that?

He gave out some low grumbled insults as he got up and left to look for firewood.

He had to take a piss anyways.

"Don't go too far," she called after him.

"Take a calming draught Granger, you have food, I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Despite her annoyance, Hermione's lips turned upwards a bit. Ultimatums work on him.

Of course, she would have fed him.

She knew that he knew it too, but thankfully, he hadn't called her bluff.

He came back a while later with his arms full of dry wood and he unceremoniously dropped them in front of her.

"There," he said. "We have enough wood for a few days. My part here is done."

"Actually, the cauldron needs water, so if you could go fill it up by the lake-"

"I'm not your bitch Granger-"

"Look, you can argue with me all night, or we can work together and get things done twice as fast," she said, fingers peeling the meat off its bone.

"Besides," she said pulling out her wand and wiggling it, "you _are_ my _bitch_."

He took a step back, shocked by her words.

Granger never swore.

Then his eyebrows creased in anger as he reached for the pot and then headed towards the lake.

Hermione smirked at his back as she watched him walk away.

For the first time in the past couple of days, she didn't feel so overwhelmed.

* * *

When he returned, his demeanor had changed.

He gently put the pot of water down and sat on the other side of the fire. It now burned brightly in the sunset glow.

She didn't say anything as she added the meat and some bones to the water and had the cauldron levitate above the fire to cook.

The water began to boil, neither of them having yet to say a word.

When everything was cooked, she levitated the bones out and poured them both some broth in plastic bowls, splitting the meat equally between them.

Draco coughed on his first bite.

"This is disgusting."

"It's not bad actually."

"You don't know what good food is."

"Don't be ridiculous; unless you're hiding a woodland cooking skill up your sleeve, this will be one of the better things you'll be eating,"

"Watch your tongue Granger, you seem to be lashing it a lot today and my patience with you is growing thin."

She couldn't help her eye roll this time and let her spoon drop into her bowl.

"Draco this is stupid-"

"Don't you dare use my first name," he spat. "You forget your place Granger; I can't wait to be able to remind you of it-"

"It's right here Malfoy," she interrupted, deadly serious. "On the other side of the fire, alone in the woods and stuck with you".

He smirked.

"We'll see," he said.

She didn't respond but kept her gaze on his unfaltering eyes.

Her good mood had vanished and sudden fear crept around her.

She broke the staring contest and looked around the forest.

Night had fallen, the birds had gone to sleep and the lack of wind made the trees eerily quiet.

She pulled her wand out of her pocket and walked around to him.

"Get up," she said.

"What?"

"It's bedtime."

"I'm not done eating," he exclaimed.

"I don't care; you didn't like it anyway."

"Granger-"

"Up," she said now pointing her wand at him, "and hands in the air."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Now Malfoy," she stressed and flicked her wand at him threateningly.

She realized her paranoia was getting the better of her but his odd behavior really started throwing her for a loop. Malfoy was always cocky, but he was never brave. And lately, he was showing a lot of it.

"Alright! Alright," he said, getting up and putting his hands behind his head and turning around.

She poked her wand into his back, leading him into the tent.

"On the bed," she said.

"Geez Granger, who know you were so domineering?" He half-joked, dropping his hands.

She waved her wand and ropes once more tied his wrists and his ankles.

He lost his balance and fell onto his bed lopsided.

"Oh ya, everyone," he answered himself.

She ignored him as she tied the other end of his rope to the leg of the bed and went back outside to check her wards again.

Everything was in place.

She sat outside until the fire died and when she turned in for the night Malfoy was breathing steady, sound asleep.

She lay down on her bed and hid her wand under her pillowcase once more.

Staring up at the ceiling, she couldn't shake off that eerie feeling.

They would leave tomorrow she decided, whether he wanted to or not.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco woke up when rustling outside the tent caught his attention.

He sat up to get a better listen. Footsteps. More than a few.

He let out a laugh.

_Finally._

"Hey! In here," he called loudly.

Hermione jumped, startled awake at his shout.

Her hand dove into her pillow as she instinctively grabbed her wand in fright. Her eyes rapidly shifting around the tent.

When she didn't immediately see anything out of the ordinary she got angry for being awoken.

"Malfoy! What are you shouting ab-"

Her sentence halted as a perplexed and filthy looking man poked his head through the tent's entrance.

"Malfoy?" The man repeated.

"Stupify!" Cried Hermione in surprise.

Red light shot from her wand and hit the man in the head, effectively propelling him straight out of the tent. Hermione pushed off the bed and started for the tent entrance.

"Not even Saint Potter can save you now," called Malfoy from his spot on the bed.

She stopped. So, it was _his_ people. She did a one-eighty and ran to him.

"Wait-" he started, but she had already untied the rope around his feet and the leash from the bed.

She hulled him to his feet.

"Walk," she stated.

"Don't be daft Granger, you're surrounded."

"You don't know that," she said.

He felt her wand push against his shoulder blade and a hand around one of his wrists; which were still tied together behind his back.

"Your funeral," he said smugly as she ushered him to the tent entrance.

"Ok," she said with a shaky breath once they reached the tent opening, "stick your head out."

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, "have you gone mental?"

"Just do it," she hissed.

"No, they'll blow my head off thinking it's you."

"I can only dream," she responded darkly.

With a little shove, she forced the crown of his head to poke out of the tent. Her heart fluttered as she waited for something to happen.

"Mister Malfoy, are you alright?" Sounded a voice from somewhere to the left.

"Be a lot better once you blundering idiots get me out of here," she heard him answer with an annoyed tone. "Took you long enough."

"Relax mudblood," someone sinisterly called from the front, "we're here for Potter".

They thought Harry was here.

"And me of course," added Malfoy.

Hermione's spirits lifted a little. Harry had escaped. Chances are Ron had too.

"Don't bother with another attempt at apparition," said the man in front. "We've disabled it for the entire area."

Ok, so plan A was gone.

She pushed Malfoy all the way out of the tent so she could peek a look at her situation, careful not to poke her head out.

"That's it," cooed the man from the left.

They weren't men from the ministry. Nor were they snatchers. They adorned death eater cloaks. She counted three of them, but she had no idea how many were around the tent in total. She quickly analyzed the situation. She couldn't do this alone.

"What are you planning to do with us?" she asked, slowly pulling Malfoy back towards her until he was in the tent entrance again, his back inside while the death eaters still had a good look at his front.

"We don't need you. Give us Potter and you and your friends may go free," the man in front snickered.

"Potter's not here," she felt Malfoy grumble to them.

Her eyes widened in fear. She debated the consequences of her next actions. She might not be able to forgive herself. Malfoy never would, she was sure. She couldn't think of a plan C and she needed to act now. Having never before performed the spell herself, she prayed Dumbledore would help her pull it off.

With a shaky hand, she dragged her wand to the middle of Malfoy's back.

He turned his head towards her, trying to see what she was doing.

She took a couple of quick breaths, reminded herself it was her only possibility of escape and whispered, with the most feeling she could muster,

"Imperio."

Malfoy inhaled deeply as the spell spread from his back to his head. Against his will, he turned his head back to the death eaters and spoke, "he's out hunting with Weasley and the others. Granger had the honor of keeping guard."

"How many are they?" asked the man on the left.

"About 6 in total," she heard Malfoy carry out her will.

"It would be best to take them by surprise," said a man to the right.

She watched through the crack as the man on the left nodded a signal. Footsteps from around the tent retreated into the forest. The three men in front stayed put.

"Now, miss...Granger, is it," started the man on the left. "Before soon, your friends will have been round up and Harry Potter will be on his way to see the Dark Lord. Speaking in your interest, it would be best to hand us over the Malfoy boy before we result in doing it ourselves."

"Promise you'll let me go?" Asked Hermione, hurridly untying Malfoy's hands.

"I give you my word."

She sneered; his faux sincerity deserved an award.

"Alright."

She stepped away from Draco and quietly made her way to the right corner of the tent.

Using her wand, she silently cut the fabric to about the length of her thumb. Lifting the flap, she stuck the tip of her wand through it, pointing it to the third death eater.

By her will, Malfoy walked over to the death eater on the left.

"Your father will be most pleased we've returned you to him," Hermione heard him say, "I've heard through the grapevine he was quite humiliated by your performance during the last raid."

Hermione watched as the man she was looking at pulled out his wand and pointed it to the tent.

"Pity," said the man from the front of the tent. "She was a pretty thing."

She set her plan into action and fired a stupefy to the man in front of her, who proceeded to hit a tree behind him. A rather loud noise was muffled as the tent absorbed the attack of retaliation from one of the other two, her wards holding. She ran back to the front and looked out the crack of the entrance to the man on the left. He was angry, arm outstretched, and wand pointing to the tent.

 _Perfect_.

On cue, Malfoy dove for the wand of the man on the left, successfully ripping it out of his hand and stupefying him with it.

She cast a shield charm in front of her and ran out.

The surprise attack took the middle man off guard and she easily knocked him out.

She turned back to see Malfoy hexing a fourth man she hadn't seen near the back.

With all visible death eaters down, she ran.

She needed to gain some distance from the others before they returned, silently pleading she wouldn't run into them.

What's more, she didn't know how many of them they were, so if she did run into them, she might need back up.

She willed Malfoy to follow her.

He caught up to her relatively quickly and she made a mental note not to use "run away" from him as a plan should she ever need to escape him.

She ran until she was winded and came to a stop, Malfoy right beside her. She tried to apparate, but the spell seemingly covered a very wide area of the forest.

Keeping hold over Malfoy's conscience was mentally and physically draining her. It was a real miracle she had pulled off. Still, she propelled her legs forward.

They ran for what seemed hours and she could feel it taking a toll on her. It was around noon when her magical reserve just about emptied. There were no other signs of death eaters.

She took Malfoy's wand from him and stuffed it into her bag, tied at her waist.

She pointed her own wand to him and silenced him.

This was going to be an ordeal she was not ready to deal with.

She'd heard of wizards losing their mind when the imperius curse was poorly casted. She hoped to God she didn't have a brain dead Malfoy.

She hesitated, partly in fear of his reaction, partly in fear of his lack thereof.

As she felt the last of her magic pour out from her, she lifted the imperius curse.


	11. Chapter 11

She waited for him to mutely become blind with rage and lash out.

He didn't. He adorned a continuous zoned out expression, cloudy eyes staring off into the distance. No change in demeanor at all.

"Malfoy?" She tried. His eyes flickered.

Without moving his head, he slowly looked around, as if he couldn't remember where he was.

"Malfoy?" She tried again a little softer. He didn't seem to notice her presence. His brows creased and he frowned, bringing his arms behind him and slowly sinking to the ground, crossed legged.

Unsure of how to proceed, Hermione sat in front of him.

"Can you hear me?"

He didn't respond. She lifted her hand to his eyes and waved.

Fear crept into her chest when he didn't blink.

So she slapped him.

It wasn't particularly hard, but his head turned to the side with the impact. She frowned.

Didn't defend, didn't react.

"Oh no..." she whispered to herself.

She rubbed her hands on her thighs, wiping the sweat from her palms and brought her hands up to his face, manually turning his head forward again.

He still hadn't acknowledged her.

At a loss of what to do, she just sat there, watching him for a while.

It wasn't a particularly warm day and the cold seeped into her from the ground.

She remembered she no longer had a tent for shelter or warmth. The early fall season was unpredictable and freezing overnight was not on her to-do list.

She got up from her spot on the ground and left to find shelter.

She searched the surrounding perimeter with her wand at the ready. There were no lakes, no caves, no open areas. Just the forest that seemed to mock her as the sun began it's descent from its peak. Dusk was approaching and hunger from the day's events made itself known.

The trickling of water from a nearby rivulet caught her attention and she followed the sound until she found the running stream. It was no larger than the width of her arm.

She crouched down to put both of her hands in the cold water and brought them back up to her mouth repeatedly, relishing the cold drink as it invaded her parched throat.

She dropped her hands back into the water as her thoughts drifted to Malfoy. If he had regained his sense, he might have tried to return to the camp. If not, she imagined him still sitting there, staring out into the emptiness of the woods. What if he had woken up and was waiting for her return - only to catch her off guard and overpower her?

She rolled her eyes at herself. She regretted not tying him back up.

But what if he never woke up at all?

_Urrgh..._

Her numbing hands brought her back to the present and she pulled them out of the water.

It would be entirely her fault.

Her shoulders sank a little as the weight added itself to her already heavy conscious. She was a good person. She didn't enjoy what she did and was overwhelmingly ashamed.

It wasn't her fault. She needed an escape. It was the only plan she could come up with.

She rubbed her moist eyes and wiped at her runny nose.

It was both, she concluded. As such, she gave herself a partial responsibility towards him.

She reached into her beaded bag and pulled out a large mug then filled it up from the stream. With her other hand, she reached into her back pocket and she pulled out her wand, just to be safe.

She had already messed up his mind. She didn't have the heart to break his body too.

Full cup in hand, she got up and slowly started walking in the general direction from which she came, catching an old footprint of hers every now and again.

Recapping the day's events, she thought over how death eaters had found her... again. It didn't make any sense. All her wards were up. Even if they traced back to her apparition site, they shouldn't have been able to see her or the entire campsite for that matter. Yet, they had known exactly where she was. It bothered her.

Darkness had almost completely engulfed the area by the time she reached her destination.

On the root of one of the trees, she saw him, his platinum blond hair a stark contrast to his environment. She sighed. He was still there, on the ground.

When she approached, she noticed he had picked up a handful of dirt and was gently letting the soil fall out of his hand before picking it back up and repeating the motion.

"Malfoy?"

He looked up at her with dead eyes. Completely void of recognition.

_Well_ , she thought. _It was a start._

She pocketed her wand and sat down in front of him.

"Here, I brought you some water." She said, lifting the cup.

He looked at it and then looked back at her.

"You drink from it" she stated, a little uncomfortable.

"See?" She pressed, taking a small sip. It felt very wrong talking to him like a child.

His hair was out of place, his clothes were filthy and his void expressions unsettled her. He was the shell of a man, with no fight and no thoughts.

Upon his vacant stare, she shifted closer to him and slowly lifted the cup once more. He slowly leaned away, suddenly radiating uncertainty.

The corners of her lips upturned. It was the first time she was this close to him without enduring his contempt and usual expressions of disgust.

She slowly stretched her arm until the cup touched his lips. To her relief, a lightbulb went on and he slowly started to drink, water escaping his mouth and running down his chin.

She brought her other hand up and quickly wiped it away before readjusting the cup for him.

As he greedily drank, her eyes began roaming his face.

If she was being honest with herself, he had always been quite attractive. With sharp features, distinguishable blond hair and striking grey eyes: more handsome than she cared to admit. Not to mention the symmetry in his features. Too bad he regularly tarnished it with scowling characteristics and a hateful personality.

She suddenly realized she was disappointed. What a waste.

At one time she thought if she proved to him and the rest of the Slytherin house how good she could be at magic, then maybe they would stop looking down on her and they could live as equals, free of bigotry.

Those days were long gone.

She pulled the cup back a little to give him some air.

She learned the hard way, no matter how much you try to prove yourself, it wouldn't make any difference. Pureblood supremacy was ingrained into their minds and it poisoned their hearts.

She brought the cup to his lips once more.

Ron would probably scold her for helping him. That this was a pointless attempt to compensate for her earlier sins. Well probably not in those words, his vocabulary was notably limited. She winced at herself. Malfoy was rubbing off on her. Ron would've without a doubt told her "he got what he deserved."

"Mum..." He murmured against the ceramic.

She brought the cup back down, now empty, and put it on the ground beside her.

His expression softened into sadness as he brought his knees up and leaned on them.

She stayed silent.

"It's okay..." He soothed.

Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and held them, keeping her mouth shut.

This was...unexpected. She figured he was reminiscing or maybe hallucinating.

"..in our house.." He continued, letting random parts of his sentence go unsaid.

"Draco?" She tried.

He turned his head in her direction, eyes darting to the ground.

"They're terrorizing us," he whispered.

Her eyebrows raised, "who is terrorizing you?"

"No, we don't."

"Don't what?"

"We could run."

"Run where? What are you...oh never mind." She huffed and looked away. He was confused. This was going nowhere.

But he answered her.

"To the safe house."

Her head snapped back to him. This could be...good information.

"We could bring the house elves," he carried on.

She cleared her throat.

"Which one, Draco?" She responded, trying out a haughty tone, imagining the Malfoy's to own a number of estates throughout the country.

"France would be the safest bet," he said now deep in thought.

"With whom would you go?"

"With you, of course," he said with a remarkable amount of tenderness.

She was taken aback. Hearing compassion from Malfoy was like hearing a dog meow.

"To do what?" She urged.

"Hide. We can't stay here any longer. It's only a matter of time before they catch Potter. When the hunt is over and the Dark Lord becomes supreme, what do you think he'll do with us? He has our house, he controls the ministry; father just gave him access to our volts and assets." He said, voice rising in volume.

"Do you think he'll pardon us for our transgressions? What do you think is going to happen to us when he's done?" his emotions coming back to him as he reached hysteria.

His eyes, now wet with tears finally reached hers.

"To me?"

For a moment she was unsure what to say. It never crossed her mind that Malfoy could be in danger as well. After all, he was a pure-blood, from an elite family well known to be serving the dark lord. She supposed she'd always assumed his family had immunity.

Her sympathetic nature kicked in and the opportune moment of freelance interrogation was forgotten.

"You're safe right now," she tried a little awkwardly.

He snorted. "Only because they can still make use of me."

"Well," she started.

"You're not." He interrupted.

"Sorry?" She said confused.

"Won't be long. They'll find a creative way to torture us."

His voice softened as he looked away, "I can't lose you..."

She sharply inhaled.

She knew it wasn't true. He was speaking to his mother. But the look he gave her was so sincere...it was love.

She scolded herself for forgetting he was a human being with emotions. A human with a family, whom he loved deeply. Watching him pour out in front of her, it was almost too surreal to take in. She'd never seen him so vulnerable before.

Her heart melted and she reached forward to touch his knee.

"We're going to be alright Malfoy." She said, giving it a little shake in an effort to convey her sincerity.

His brows creased.

"Malfoy?" He repeated as his eyes darted back to hers, alert and full of life.

She drew a sharp breath. _Oops._


	12. Chapter 12

The pounding in his head was distracting. His mother had retreated from her sister's hissy fit in the foyer and followed him into his bedroom. He opened the decanter holding his bourbon and took a swing. Blinking twice, he gave his head a shake. It was familiar, like a déjas-vu.

"That was inappropriate, Draco," said Mrs. Malfoy.

"You're right, I should have used a glass," he responded, lifting the vial again.

"You're lucky she didn't curse you." Her nostrils flared.

"No, I was lucky you stepped in."

"You can't expect me to cover for you. I can't always be there," she hissed.

"Sure you will."

"Are you really that delusional?" She breathed exasperatedly.

"No."

"Then find favor within the ranks. Your father-"

"Is now considered a joke-"

"Don't speak of such things" she hissed.

He put the bottle back on the shelf.

"Your father and I are tirelessly working to keep you safe."

"By boasting about my marks at school? My flying ability?" He rolled his eyes as the sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

"Anything that will remind them of your value," she said, voice cracking.

He turned his head, his vision groggy but clear enough to see the lone tear run down her cheek. Regret filled him. He had seen his mother cry only three times in his life. This made four.

"Mum..." he murmured, his tone softening.

"I need you to be safe-" she pleaded.

"I am mum..." he said gently, making his way over to her.

She turned her head away from him but continued to stand tall, ever the dignified woman.

"-You're making things increasingly difficult."

He brought his hand to her arm.

"It's okay," he said, trying to soothe her.

"No Draco, it's not." Her eyes flashing back to him, stricken with anger.

"Well, I'm sick of it."

She gave an exaggerated huff, "Well it's a little late to call the healer".

"I'm serious. This was supposed to be an honor-"

Her eyes widened, "Draco".

"They're in our house, in the living and dining rooms-"

"Draco."

"Hell, just yesterday I was kicked out of the library so the space could be used for interrogation," he said sharply, making wide hand gestures for the lack of a better term for torture.

"Draco," she uttered, "it is an honor to be the Dark Lords headquarters".

"Isn't that sort of thing supposed to be kept to the dungeons?" He pressed.

She cleared her throat, "It was".

"Don't you see mum?" He walked over and sat on his bed, "they're taking over."

"You are being ungrateful-" she said warningly, tone lowered cautiously.

"I'm not ungrateful," he said. "I am honored the Dark Lord is staying with us. It's Dolohov, Greyback and Karkaroff that's the problem. They're running around our house, demanding services like we're house-elves."

"They are working under the orders of the Dark Lord-"

Draco dropped his head.

"They're terrorizing us," he whispered.

His mother walked up to him and took a seat beside him, letting her hand fall on his back.

"For now, we need to play along."

He raised his head back up and looked straight at the door.

"No, we don't."

"I beg your pardon?"

He turned to look at her.

"We could run."

She expelled a breath resembling a laugh.

"Run where?"

"To the safe house."

"And just how would we manage?"

"We could bring the house-elves."

"Which one, Draco?"

Draco frowned in confusion. Which one? Did she mean which house elf or which safe house?

The room darkened considerably, his eyes roamed the walls as they readjusted to the new setting.

Draco reconsidered; she must have meant which safe house.

"France would be the safest bet," he finally said. "It's the most heavily warded."

"With whom would you go?" Asked his mother, leaning in.

"With you, of course," he said sincerely. What an odd question.

"To do what?"

Did he not just explain himself?

"Hide. We can't stay here any longer. It's only a matter of time before they catch Potter. When the hunt is over and the Dark Lord becomes supreme, what do you think he'll do with us? He has our house, he controls the ministry; father just gave him access to our volts and assets." He added, voice rising in volume.

He looked over to her and nearly jumped back, seeing his mother sprouting untamed bushy hair in the place of her naturally sleek blonde.

He rapidly blinked, the mirage disappearing, leaving him with his mother once more. He glanced at the bourbon on its stand before continuing.

"Do you think he'll pardon us for our transgressions? What do you think is going to happen to us when he's done?" He panicked. To say he felt unwell was an understatement.

His eyes flew to his mother's in an attempt to ground himself, "To me?".

"You're safe right now" she reassured, "I made sure of it".

"Only because they can still make use of me."

He turned his head away as she brought her hand to his face.

"Well," she started, but he cut her off.

"You're not," he realized.

"Sorry?" She said, sounding confused and out of character.

"Won't be long. They find a creative way to torture us."

"That's why we are dealing with this before such an opportunity can knock."

A heartbeat passed before he softly responded.

"I can't lose you, mum."

"We're going to be alright Malfoy," said the woman beside him. He frowned. The voice was not his mother's.

"Malfoy?" he echoed.

Before his eyes, the hardwood of the floor darkened until it became dirt, the defining lines of the nightstands and shelves stretched until they became trees and the woman beside him morphed into a much shorter bright-eyed individual. He saw the unkempt messy hair and a genuine look of concern change to one of regret and fear.

_Granger._

He looked at his hands and feet. No ropes. He quickly stood up, almost falling over.

"Wait," she began.

"Fuck off," he said, and took a few steps and gripped his throbbing head, "bloody hell, what did you do to me?" He said, bending over in pain.

He heard her rummaging inside her bag, "I think I might have something aimed specifically for migraines-"

"I don't want any of your shit," he said backing away.

She looked up, pitying him.

"Malfoy, I'm so, so, so sorry."

"Did you knock me out?" He groaned.

"Sort of..." she muttered.

He dropped his hands.

"What did you do?"

"I...I..."

He raised his voice, patience disappearing.

"What did you do mudblood?"

"I used the imperius curse." She whispered, not looking at him.

"Imperius?" He repeated confused.

"On who?" He asked, taking deep breaths. When she didn't answer he clued in, "on me!"

"I'm so sorry Draco-"

"Stop."

"It was the only way I could- wait come back!" She called as he retreated to the tree line.

Draco waited until he reached a large willow and sidestepped out of her view behind it. He was out of breath and his legs screamed at him and he didn't know why. His head swam and with every breath, his chest wound ached. What had she made him do?

_I need to get the hell out of here._

He pulled at the magic surrounding his navel. But nothing happened. He swore under his breath. He was either still too weak to apparate or they were still within the anti-apparition parameter. His eyes widened as another possibility came to mind.

What if she broke him?

"There you are," she said rounding the tree.

He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her into the bark.

"Give me your wand"

"What? No-"

"Give it to me. I need to know if I can still do magic."

"Why wouldn't you be able to-"

"Because I can't apparate!" He said, giving her a shake.

"Malfoy, you need a _wand_ to apparate," she calmly reminded him.

She was right.

Swallowing, he let go of her shoulders. He already knew that.

"You seem to be recovering fairly well," she said. "But I think it would be best to take it easy for a bit. I don't think you're quite...you, yet."

"And what makes you think that?" He glared at her.

She rolled her eyes.

"You ran off by yourself completely defenseless into the woods with no idea where you are and attempted to apparate after going through cognitive trauma. Slytherins are supposed to be cunning. _That_ was a stupid move," she said crossing her arms. "You're known for a lot of things Malfoy, but an _idiot_ isn't one of them."

He noted the compliment but chose to ignore it.

"Where are we anyway?" he huffed in the cold, his breath hovering in the air like smoke before eventually dissipating.

"Lost," she admitted. "With no shelter and snacks left for food."

He sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"We'd better figure out shelter then. _Son to the Malfoy heir freezes to death beside mudblood_ wasn't the goodbye title I was reaching for," he said, brushing past her.

Her lips pursed and she closed her eyes as her teeth clenched.

She held her breath and counted to ten, then followed him, head bobbing like an apple, "until you get your head screwed back on straight, you'd better keep it low."

His upper lip curled in disgust –was she trying to make a joke?

She cleared her throat as they made their way back.

Coming to a stop at the clearing, he turned to her, "How do you want to do this Granger?"

She tried to hide her surprise as he gave her leadership.

"Don't get cocky," he sneered, "you have the wand."

Right, she nodded. Nevermind.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco watched her contemplate. His migraine was still roaring and the evening seemed to be getting colder as the seconds ticked by.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

"I'm not sure."

"Not so bright after all."

"I don't hear you coming up with any great ideas," she snapped

He turned his head, looking for coverage or paths.

"We walk until we find something."

"No, I've walked this entire area, there's nothing but a stream forty-five minutes that way," she said, pointing with her thumb.

His eyes fell to the pouch tied to her jean's belt loop.

"What's in there?"

"As I said," she began counting with her fingers, "A couple of snacks, some potion ingredients, clothes, a couple of hygiene products and perhaps a couple of books, not counting the ones I left at camp."

His rolled his eyes before his body gave a stern shiver and he crossed his arms in response. He looked around once more, spotting dead branches underneath a tree. He walked over to them and pulled until they came loose from their tangle. He dragged them back to her, letting them drop with a thud at her feet, "Start with fire."

To his astonishment, she pulled out her wand, muttered an incantation, and began to work on cutting the branches in log sized pieces, without argument.

When she finished, Hermione took a couple of steps aside and crouched. She removed the foliage from the ground with her hand.

"Try to find some rocks" she instructed, focused on her task.

"You do it. I think I've suffered enough for one day."

She paused, took a calming breath, and looked up at him.

"Would you prefer to be down here, digging a hole with your fingernails your highness?" Sarcastically waiving her dirty hands at him.

He made a face.

"I suppose you're right, only _peasants_ sully themselves."

Her hands dropped and she bitterly smacked the ground as he walked away. Maybe he was already over his head trauma. It sure seemed like it.

When he came back to the site, he wordlessly placed the rocks in a circle formation around her make-shift pit and sat opposite of her as he watched her light the fire.

The warmth was subtle and he was grateful for it, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Silence settled between them.

Hermione sat on the other side of the pit, fatigue making her feel colder than what she was.

Finally, Malfoy spoke up.

"We're going to need more than this if we don't want to turn into human bloody popsicles by morning."

"Please contribute, I beg of you," she said with heavy sarcasm.

"Your books." He stated.

"How would that-"

"I'll show you," sticking his hand out to her.

"Oh. Oh! No."

"Come on Granger. You can't possibly think it's more important than your life".

"These books _have_ saved my life. And in retrospect, they've saved yours too."

"Are you being serious?"

"I am, I have potion preparation texts-"

"Can't use them if your dead-"

"and first aid manuals-" He got up and walked over to her.

"and a book Dumbledore gave me-"

"Right now I don't give two shits what they are," he stretched his hand out once more to her. "Do it and we might just wake up tomorrow."

He waited as she chewed her lips in consideration, and let out an irritated huff, the condensed air visible once more from his quick expiration.

"For fucks sakes Granger, I'll buy you new books myself,"

She shot him a look of total disbelief.

"Newest editions." He added.

She didn't believe him for a second. But as a shiver raked her body, she hesitantly reached into her bag and pulled out _Advanced Potion-Making_ , and gently fingered its binding. She had taken good care of it thus far.

"Hey!" The book ripped from her hands as he snatched it from her. He opened a random page and she cringed as he tore it, crumpled it up, and shoved it inside his shirt. She resigned herself to silently watch as he repeated the process. Despite the missing buttons and cut in the cloth, he crumpled the pages until he was so stuffed he resembled a deformed scarecrow.

Her heart sank, not only were her books useful and interesting, they were her escape when she needed to step away from the constant fear and anxiety of the ongoing warfare. She hoped they wouldn't need to use all of her paper resources because honestly, that would be dreadful.

"Here," he tossed the book into her lap, "I'll let you decide your priorities."

She flipped him the bird.

"Just calling it how I see it" he snickered and plopped down a couple of paces away from her.

She took a moment to swallow her pride, then opened the book and ripped out the pages of the first chapter, before crumpling them up and doing the same. Might as well use the chapters she had already familiarized herself with first.

Silence ensued once more.

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out two of Ron's shirts. "Did you need a pillow?"

He looked at it disdainfully, "I can't believe I'm reduced to this."

She chucked it at him and pulled out two of Harry's shirts and rolled them up before getting up and taking a few steps towards Malfoy, the crumpling noise of the paper in her shirt evident as she went.

She took out her wand, "hands please."

"Really Granger? Again?" He whined.

"And every night until I find a way to get you to the Order's headquarters" she retorted.

"And where is that exactly?" He snapped as rope shot from her wand and bound his hands and feet once more.

"You'll know when we get there," she said, tying the ends of it to the nearest tree.

She had no clue.

She sat back in her original position and re-kindled the fire, internally debating what their next course of action should be.

"What happened today?"

She looked up and studied him for a moment, before carefully choosing her answer.

"We were attacked by death eaters this morning. I used the imperious curse to have you help me escape. Then we ran pretty much all day, until I basically couldn't run anymore."

"That explains why it feels like I've been stomped all over by a Hippogriff," he said, referring to their third-year event from Hogwarts.

"Buckbeak barely scratched you," she said annoyed.

"He nearly took my arm off."

She put her head in her hands "you're such a baby."

"You're such a hypocrite. You cried like a baby when dear aunt Bella carved your title into your arm," he said pointing at her scar with his chin, "I bet you barely felt it."

"Are you _fucking_ shitting me?" She shrieked, "Bellatrix _tortured_ me for information. You're comparing it to being scratched by an animal?"

"I see no difference. Oh wait, yes I do," he said maliciously, "I don't have a scar."

"You will," she replied with equal darkness, "right there." He followed her finger pointing to his chest and looked back up at her impressed. He expected tears, rage, and fire. What he didn't expect from her was ice.

His lip curved upward. _Impressive_.

"What happened after we stopped running?" He circled back to the original subject. Best to explore the icy parts of her personality when she wasn't gripping her wand with white knuckles.

"Nothing," she clipped "I left your boggled mind alone while I searched for food and water." Lying, according to the Weasley twins, was always best delivered within a truth. They would be proud.

He nodded and said nothing else, rubbing his hands to the fire with what little movement his restraints allowed him.

Eventually, her eyelids became heavy and her mind returned to how she was going to find the Order's headquarters. As her thoughts drifted away, she put that on hold until she could properly think it over in the morning.

* * *

Draco didn't sleep a wink. The paper insulation kept him warm but his back, his hands, and his feet were numb. He had slept directly beside the rocks of the fire pit, desperately soaking up any heat it offered. He growled. The morning wasn't warming up fast enough.

He noticed Hermione had also moved closer to the fire, but she had slept soundly most of the night.

"Granger." She hummed in response, unstirred.

"Granger wake up, I'm losing circulation."

Her eyes cracked open and she made a disappointed grunting sound.

"Today would be great."

She slowly reached for her wand and when she grabbed it, made a half-fast attempt to wave it. Nevertheless, his bounds untied themselves.

He rocked back and used the motion to propel himself up. Looking around, the forest was much more welcoming in the morning light. He gave his hands and feet a shake and attempted a stretch but flinched, his aching chest not agreeing with the movement.

"Let's get going Granger, I don't want a repeat of last night," he said, rubbing his ribcage.

"What? Wasn't as good for you as it was for me?" She said with a yawn.

He just looked at her.

She woke all the way up, "that didn't come out right."

"No wonder you don't want to get up," he snickered.

"That's not what I meant," she stood up.

A genuine laugh of amusement escaped him at her flustered composure.

"I-oh forget it." She rolled her eyes. She should have just put a shoe in her mouth.


	14. Chapter 14

They'd been walking, not quite side by side for the greater part of the day. The rain, a reflection of their current emotional state, soaked them and caused the stream to rise as they walked on either side of it. Hermione thought it to be a frighteningly accurate representation of their situation; divided by war, on opposing sides: each tired and miserable: and striding in the direction of victory. It was only a matter of who would cross the finish line first.

She walked with her wand casually in her hand, ready, but off guard to say the least. They had fallen into a peaceful lull since the morning's awkwardness.

"Granger, there's a hole in the rocks over there."

She nodded in response and hopped across the stream, joining him as he approached it.

"Lumos," she said, giving her wand a jerk and the tip lit up brightly as they entered the shallow, cave-like opening covered in dark green moss.

"It's a rock shelter," explained Hermione.

"I can see that," he shook the water from his hair.

"No, it's a type of cave," she clarified. "They played an important role in muggle history. Archaeology has demonstrated that prehistoric muggles often used them as living spaces, leaving behind tools, artifacts, and at times wall paintings."

He looked around a moment, attentive to her words without allowing himself to appear interested.

Hermione fell silent at being brushed off and after a while they found themselves leaning on opposing walls of the cave, watching the rainfall outside.

A growling from her abdomen broke the silence.

"We really should think about food," she said pocketing her wand and reaching into her bag. She pulled out a snack and took a bite before noticing his look of disdain.

"What?"

"You're disgusting. Actually eating compressed grain packaged in...what is that? Paper and aluminum foil?"

"I believe so actually."

He raised his nose at her, "sickening."

She shrugged her shoulder and took another bite.

His stomach grumbled. Her lips upturned.

"You sure you don't want some?"

"Hard pass."

"Have it your way," she said, this time moaning loudly as she chewed.

Draco felt humiliated.

There she was, contently eating her substandard muggle nutrition, acting haughty and rubbing it in his starving face.

After watching her take a couple more bites, he took a couple of steps toward her.

She pulled the bar away from him before he could grab it.

"I thought you weren't hungry enough to lower yourself to muggle snacks."

"Well I am now," he snapped.

"Alright," she said, "on one condition."

He glared at her.

"I want you to admit that we are not so different, if only in that aspect."

"What aspect?" he growled

"We are both humans, in need of nutrition to survive."

"Oh, come on," he turned away from her.

"If only in that aspect," she repeated.

He threw his arms out, "look I never said you weren't human, of course, you're going to get hungry. Like _every. Other. Animal_." He emphasized.

"You haven't treated me like one. Another human being, that is."

"You still don't get it, do you?" He stepped back into her personal space. "Some humans are just better than others."

"Let's entertain that idea," she said, her annoyance at his arrogance beginning to bubble.

"You think me human. But a lesser human. Remind me again. Where is my place?"

"Six feet under-"

"I mean strictly speaking from your point of view, to be rid of those individuals would be a waste of talent, wouldn't it? The house of Slytherin values resourcefulness and ambition. I am intelligent. I've bested you in several, if not all, scholarly subjects." His face darkened at the reminder. "And I'm not an exception to my _kind_ either. There have been several muggle-born witches and wizards throughout history that have contributed amazing feats that we still use in today's regular wizarding society. If they had all been enslaved or _dead_ , we wouldn't have what we do today."

"A _proper_ wizard or witch would have figured it out eventually."

Hermione sighed.

"Are you not sick of this?'

"Sick of what?" he said irked, "sick of being tied up like your lapdog? Sick of always being told what to do? Sick of being bested by someone who is obviously stealing magic from others?"

"What?" She snorted, "how on earth could I do that?"

"Mudbloods have been doing it for years."

"That's impossible and outlandish," she said, choking back a laugh as her brows creased.

"It's well recorded actually. During the first wizarding war, several muggle-borns were seen running out of magic in the middle of the battlefields. Those who survived retreated, where they could restock their reserves until the next battle came."

"That's not true," she said shaking her head.

"Oh, but it is. Those facts have been scratched from the history books by muggle loving traitors. Old men in power like that old fool Dumbledore-"

"-you don't get to talk about him." How dare he bring Dumbledore into this.

"-grew soft for his squib of a sister I imagine."

"What are you talking about? That's such bull-"

"That's how you were able to perform the imperious curse." He breathed. "All this time you've been siphoning my magic, without me noticing."

His eyes met hers.

"I told you that's not poss-"

He lunged for her.

Her back hit the wall of the cave and her wand slipped from her hand, rolling deeper into the rock shelter.

"How are you doing it?" He screamed in her face.

"I'm not doing anything!" She hollered back.

He grabbed her shoulders and tossed her to the ground, grunting with the effort.

Before Hermione registered what had happened, he was on top of her.

"Tell me Granger!" He pinned her arms beside her head.

"I'm telling you I haven't done anything! It's impossible to steal someone's magic!"

"Stop lying!"

"I'm not!" She hollered back, arching her neck to get as close to him as possible, as if proximity would get her point across.

Draco took a moment, flicking his eyes between her raging ones. She wasn't afraid. Then something in his head clicked, memories from yesterday rushing back.

Hermione watched him pause a moment and pushed off of her.

He sat with his back to the opposing wall and heaved.

"You pretended to be my mother." He said, shocked and confused.

"What?" She sat up.

"You pretended to be my mother," he said again, now eerily calm.

"Well for the past day and a bit, I kind of have been haven't I?"

"What did you see?"

"Nothing."

"Then what did you hear?" He snapped.

She figured now was a good time to fess up. He seemed to remember anyway.

"You telling your mother you wanted to escape."

"Fucking shit," he stood up in a rage and stormed to the entrance.

"Now where are you going?"

"For a walk!"

With that, he disappeared into the rainstorm.

And this time, she let him.


	15. Chapter 15

Draco's angry stride followed the creek's flow. He figured the further away he got, the less magic she could siphon from him. He sneered. It explained so much. She might have been the teacher's pet, but no way could she have pulled off the imperius curse without additional bewitchment. Resentment shimmered beneath his stormy grey eyes. But all that could end up irrelevant. His family was under enough scrutiny. And the mudblood knew he wanted out. If she were to open her mouth at the wrong time...

His strong stride lost its confidence and he slowed into pensive footsteps.

She could get him killed.

"Oh my God," he realized, completely stopping and ran a frustrated hand through his drenched hair.

She could get his mother killed.

"Dam it!" he roared into the rain, picking up a rock and hurling it at a nearby shrub, breaking some branches in the process. He had to find a way to keep her mouth shut.

His feet moved on their own accord and he continued his path down the stream. As the terrain began to slope, he had to grab onto the tree's to avoid losing his footing. As the ground finally leveled, he looked up to a broad and large pound, impressively spanning the length almost half of a Quidditch field. He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and listened as the rain calmed into pitter-patters across the water. Kicking off his shoes, he didn't bother rolling up his already soaked pants and stepped into the water until he reached his waist. He took his time, letting his body adjust to the temperature, and slowly laid back, stretching out his arms and letting the rain hit his face, lulling him.

* * *

Hermione's sigh echoed off the walls of the cave. She had long ago relieved her bladder, dried off, and ate yet another snack. She pulled knees to her chest and rested her back against the moss. Malfoy had been gone for quite some time now. She figured he'd come back. He's wandless and hungry, she had rationalized.

She rubbed at her shoulder where she had landed. He had been so angry he hadn't noticed the wand escape from her hand, well out of her reach. Had he paid attention, their situation would have turned out very differently.

But the rain had slowed and there was still no sight of him. She started doubting herself. Malfoy had been very confident about his back up. Like he had known they would know where they were. She rubbed her knuckles over her lips. What if he somehow came back with snatchers? She had no idea how he had pulled that off in the first place.

The cons were quickly outweighing the pros of waiting for him.

She stood up and gripped her wand firmly before walking out of the cave to the narrow stream. She followed the path of the water, knowing it would eventually lead to a larger water source. She was just as aware that the path could also lead to Malfoy, who could be coming for her. Wand still in hand, she braced herself on the nearby trees to keep her balance and took careful steps as the land slanted, watching as a couple of unsteady rocks crumbled underneath her feet and rolled down the hill.

There, through the woods and into a pond, she saw him. Walking down a couple more steps, she found a large tree sprouting a "v" formation. She crouched behind it and looked around. He seemed to be alone but she couldn't be sure. So she watched him float for a while.

* * *

It was uncomfortable really, playing a peeping Tom. This was more something _he_ would have a tendency to do. Her eyes fixed themselves upon him down below. His calm demeanor mixed with his platinum locks gave him an almost angelic aura. It irked her to know that the image was incredibly deceiving.

Deciding it was safe, she came out of her hiding spot and approached the shore.

"Hey," she called softly. But he didn't notice, his ears submerged and his conscious lost in thought.

"Malfoy," she said a little louder. This time he heard her. He bent forward in the water and stood up, his back facing her. His broad shoulders, accentuated by the wet cloth of his shirt, clung to the muscles underneath. She tried hard not to notice.

He turned and saw her. "What do you want?" he asked, noting she was completely dry.

"Well when you didn't return to the cave, I assumed you attempted an escape" she lied, crossing her arms. Well, it wasn't a complete lie.

"In my dreams, Granger" he said, starting to make his way out of the water.

"Oh wait!" she said in a way that made him pause. She pulled at the strings of the bag tied at her waist and shoved her arm inside before pulling out a small object.

"While you're in there," she pitched it to him, "you might as well wash up."

He lifted a hand out and caught it, eyeing her suspiciously before looking down on a used bar of soap.

"These should probably fit you as well," she continued, pulling out men's clothing and letting them drop to the ground, "if not I know some minor modification spells."

He considered telling her off but decided to inwardly agree. His hygiene needed some attention.

He settled on telling her to get lost instead.

She was taken aback.

"I beg your pardon?" she said warningly, watching him unbutton the top of his shirt.

"You heard me Granger," he said skipping a couple missing ones, "you don't get a _round two_ ," and pushed through the last one.

_Oh_.

He balled his shirt, squeezing the water from it, and chucked it on to the shore before bringing his hands to the edge of his pants.

"Granger," he waited.

"Yes of course!" she all but squeaked before turning around and heading back uphill.

He turned his back to her and waded a little deeper into the water.

_Maybe she'll find herself a better view_ , he thought, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips _._

* * *

Hermione made her way to the top of the hill and refused to turn around. She palmed her face and kept her hand there, completely embarrassed with herself. She had just stood there staring at him like some blonde bimbo. Sure she had seen him without his shirt before, and quite recently. But for some reason this was different. Her eyes seemed to have paid more attention to detail.

She let out a muffled huff and took her hands off her face, placing them on her hips as her gaze unfocused into the distance.

A flashback of his soaked silk shirt caressing his shape resurfaced across her vision.

"Ridiculous," she exclaimed, becoming annoyed with herself. With a shake of her head, she leaned against the bark of a nearby tree and stood watch while she waited.

* * *

Draco finished washing and walked out of the water with his pants in hand, and made his way to the pile of clothes Hermione had chucked to the ground. He picked up a modest shirt with the Gryffindor emblem embedded on the left breast. Underneath it laid somebody's underwear.

_Fuck that_. He let it drop back to the ground.

He put his old shirt back on, unfazed by its dampness. He would walk around stark naked before he wore a Gryffindor emblem. Same goes for the unknown, most likely used underwear.

He did, however, grab the pants. He put a leg through it and paused when it jingled. Reaching inside the pocket, he pulled out five golden galleons.

Who the hell did she travel with that held galleons in their pockets? Sure as hell wasn't Weasley.

He bounced the coins in his hand coming to the only other logical conclusion. Who knew Potter had money?

He put the coins back into his pocket.

"Hey Granger!" he shouted into the woods, "I'm done."


	16. Chapter 16

After hearing his shout, Hermione took a couple more delicate breaths and headed back. Eyes downcast, she descended the brittle landscape. She was pretty sure she had her hormones under control for the time being. It was a perfectly natural response. He was, after all, her only male company for an extended period of time, with whom she did not already have a deep connection with. Stopping for a moment, she eyed the flush surrounding hillside. Technically, she did harbor a connection to Malfoy. It was just a rather rotten one. She gave herself a slight nod. No need to make a big deal out of it.

As the rain stopped, the pound became still. Hiding behind the rainclouds, the horizon hinted a pink hue and migrating birds could be seen making their way south. Far off in the distance, across the pound and over a couple of rolling hills, she noticed a small cloud of smoke emanating from the trees.

It looked like a camp. It could be Harry and Ron.

Her heart swelled.

Or it could be snatchers.

She frowned, debating how she should proceed.

"Granger?" Malfoy's voice rose from below.

"Coming," she replied.

She approached him and gathered the clothes he rejected, shaking them from the dirt and putting them back in her bag.

"What now?" He asked, watching her closely.

"We go that way," she answered, using her wand to point across the mass of water. She made a point to ignore the possibility of him wanting to discuss his earlier freakout.

"Why?"

"Because," she said, waving her arm in the direction, not wanting to explain herself.

"Because what?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I have the wand," she said, pointing the wand to herself and then rotating her wrist so the tip pointed at him, "and I said so".

He gave her a sour look.

"Just trust me" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "It could very well be to your benefit."

"Ya, how's that?"

"Trust" she repeated and started walking.

"Right."

He reluctantly followed her, grumbling under his breath. Not much he could do about it anyways.

* * *

The forest around them thickened, making walking more of a slow obstacle course; dodging twigs, jumping fallen dead trees, and stepping over coarse woody debris. Hermione was eternally grateful he hadn't brought up the morning's event. She didn't have the strength to fight him on it.

The silence between them had stretched nearly twenty minutes before Draco spoke.

"Any more of that tin foiled garbage in that bag of yours?"

"If you mean the snacks, then yes. But I don't have many left," she said, pushing some branches out of her way.

His hand caught the recoil before it hit him in the face.

"I'm bloody starving."

"We'll have a lunch break at noon. For now, we need to keep walking-"

"How is that bloody fair?" he ranted, "You've injured me. You've eaten like a cow-"

She stopped walking, looking up at him in disbelief, "I beg your par-"

"-and _now_ you're depriving me of nutrition. You might be distantly related to Blaise. He's recently seemed to develop a knack for driving people insane-"

"You know what would drive someone insane?" She hissed before quieting her tone, "being stuck with someone who relishes in making you miserable."

He couldn't help the taunting smile that formed his lips. "Do you relish in making me miserable Granger?"

"I wasn't talking about me," she answered, her hair flaring out as she whipped her head back to the front and continued to walk.

She hadn't taken the bait. It was somewhat disappointing and he was mildly surprised she denied herself the opportunity to preach him her morals. He smacked his arm and looked at the flying insect he squished. Making a face, he brushed it off and took off after her. His long strides easily catching up and slowing down to walk beside her.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but relaxed when he ignored her and focused on his path. The unmistakable hum of mosquitoes became apparent as they walked. Hermione had already killed four and could sense Malfoy's growing agitation as he swatted at them.

"Granger!" he snapped, picking up the pace and swooshing the air. "Shoot me a repellant spell."

"If I knew one, I would have already cast it," she replied, hand waving off a couple of bloodsuckers that wouldn't' leave her alone.

He stuck his hand out to her, midstride, "I know one."

"Not happening," she said, watching her steps.

"Granger, give me the wand," he pressed, his open hand swatting the bugs with another quick wave.

"Just how stupid do you think I am?" she quickly rebutted, and immediately chastised herself for giving him ammo.

"You're everything but stupid Granger, and you use every opportunity to remind me of it." He growled.

Her head shot up to look at him, astonished, as he walked past her. Then quickly became distracted by the buzzing around her ears.

He stopped and turned to her as she caught up and surveyed the ground a moment before bending and picking up a wand-like twig.

"The incantation is _insectum repello_ " he said, giving the twig a simple wave followed by a large circular motion.

"Sorry," she said, looking back to him, "do it again".

He repeated the motions, although rather quickly.

Hermione attempted to copy his motions and said the incantation. Brown smoke emitted from the tip of her wand.

"No, like this" he walked beside her and turned so they were facing the same direction. He did it again.

"Like this?" More smoke erupted from her wand.

"No! It's a simple fucking move Granger. A six-year-old can do it."

"You're moving too fast! How am I supposed to learn when it looks like you're trying to conduct an orchestra!"

"A wha...?" He said, not getting the reference.

"Look," he sighed and took a step behind her, grabbing her wrist and pushed up to lift it.

She went rigid.

"Relax, you're still holding the wand," he said mildly annoyed.

Hermione slackened the joints in her arm and let him guide her through the motions. His chest expanded behind her, making her acutely aware of his proximity. She was defiantly not relaxed.

He finished the wide circle and let go of her wrist, which dropped with the lack of support.

She turned away and quickly took a couple of steps from him, as if he were a hot iron she jumped to avoid. His brow creased; insulted she had jumped away from him so hurriedly. _She_ was the mudblood, she should be blessed to have him touch her.

He opened his mouth to tell her off when a dusty brown wave blew around them, effectively repelling the surrounding mosquitoes.

"Got it!" she turned back and smiled, excited, and proud.

The insult died on his tongue.


	17. Chapter 17

Holy shit.

It's not that he'd never seen her smile before. She just never smiled _at_ him before. His muscles slacked in surprise. She...had beauty to her. Her smile beamed and her eyes shone brightly, lighting up all of her features. She looked like a whole new person.

"What? That was it wasn't it?" she asked, face falling and glow dissipating.

He nodded.

"Great," she said, running her fingers over her wand, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Well," she said, opening a hand to the direction they were heading and waited for him to step ahead. When he didn't move, she muttered "okay then..." her arm making a slapping noise as she let it drop against her thigh. He looked as if he was about to throw a temper tantrum. She turned and started walking - not keen on engaging the possibility.

He couldn't believe it. When she smiled, Granger resembled a pretty woman.

A memory of second-year crossed his mind when he had jinxed her overly large front teeth to grow bigger, like those of a beaver. He snorted under his breath. Really, she should be grateful. Without him, she probably would have never got her teeth fixed to the straight, pearly whites she has today. Thanks to him, she now had half a chance at ever getting laid.

His smirked widened, eyes darting to her retreating back. Then again, all she had to do was open her mouth and all the men within a twenty-foot radius would instantly recoil. He snorted a second time. Who wants to deal with that?

Hermione paused and turned to him from up ahead.

Schooling his features, he sobered up his thoughts and followed her.

* * *

Malfoy would groan a new complaint every now and again. It was really starting to grate her nerves. At first, Hermione had answered him; telling him to suck it up and grow a pair. But after a while, she realized his whining was more of a coping mechanism and she let him vent. At lunch, they stopped and ate the last of her snacks. Draco hadn't bothered to hide his disgust as he ate, making Hermione roll her eyes. She put the paper trash back in her pouch, and they pushed on.

* * *

As the sun descended once more, so did the temperature. Malfoy had officially become quiet. The sounds of crickets and frogs in the distance filled the silence. As they walked, the forest thinned, the space between the tree's growing until eventually, a clearing opened. They stopped at the edge of the forest and scanned the area.

"I'm fine with it," shrugged Draco.

"How do you mean?" she asked, also examining the impressive grassland in front of them.

"The faster we're found, the faster I go home."

"I thought you didn't want to go home?"

"Of course I bloody want to go home," he snapped, temper already swelling.

"What's the point? I doubt you're going to convince your parents to join you on the run-"

He pointed a menacing finger at her.

"You shut the fuck up and listen to me," his expression darkened considerably, "if you tell anyone what you heard, if you tip anyone off that I even have the slightest reservations, if my family gets-"

"I won't," she said honestly.

His hand lowered in surprise.

"I mean, unless it would, by some means, save me or my friends in unavoidable circumstances. Apart from that, it's really not my business."

Though that wasn't totally true. The Order could use him. Maybe they would offer him protection in return for information. That sort of made it her business, she supposed.

"Didn't you just hear me?" He breathed, fear and rage bubbling beneath the surface of his icy stare. "No one finds out. Ever."

"I can't make that promise," she calmly replied, having already given it some thought, "but if I don't have a reason to bring it up, I won't."

He ripped his eyes from her, surveilling the prairie once more to stop himself from hurtling his hands at her throat. Mostly because she was still holding that bloody wand of hers. Not that it really mattered. Hermione-fucking-Granger would tattle on him. He'd get interrogated, cursed, tortured, and finally executed if the Dark Lord felt merciful.

At a loss for words, a single, crazed, laugh of apprehension escaped him. She would get him killed. His arms flew open as if to say, "of course you would" before landing on his hips as he let out a huff. Blinking away the moisture pooling in his eyes, he tried to control his breathing. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't attack her and couldn't defend himself. She held the extra set of keys to his cage, and had the power to keep him locked in it.

Hermione decided not to say anything as she watched him lose his temper. Her own eyes shifted to the land in front of them and considered the dangers of them crossing out in the open. They would stick out like a sore thumb.

Snatchers, death eaters, government officials...everyone was out looking for them. To cross it would initiate a game of Russian roulette.

When Draco spoke up, Hermione jolted from her thoughts to look at him.

"You might as well kill me now," he said starring into the distance, voice dripping with resentment as his features shifted, becoming calm and stoic.

His eyes slowly drifted back to her as she furrowed her eyebrows.

"I'm serious."

"I'm not going to kill you-"

"I'm going to kill you," his lips tightened, "as soon as I get the chance. Save your friends the heartbreak and get rid of me while you can."

His reply was malicious and angry. Self-destructive.

As she watched his eyes brim with hatred, Hermione found herself instantly pitying him. His situation was not easy...in some ways, she realized, he might actually have it worse than she did.

Solidifying her resolve, she took a couple of steps until she was right in front of him, where she had to tilt her head upward to face him properly.

Beyond anguish, Draco looked away at the setting sun and gave his eyes a harsh wipe with the crook of his elbow, his pride not letting him step down from her approach.

"Draco Malfoy. I have never, nor will I ever, kill someone. You know me better than that-"

"Fuck off-"

"Secondly, given the chance to kill me, I honestly don't think you would-"

"Are you purposely being daft?" He faced her once more, wondering if she had suddenly become deranged-

"You couldn't kill Dumbledore, could you?"

He paused a moment.

"I was going to."

"...but you didn't."

He waited for her to continue.

"Draco, I don't think you're an evil person, you're just...a bad one."

"I honestly don't give two shits what you thi-"

"Finally," she cut him off sternly, "if you really want to get me killed you just might get your chance. Somewhere, across this meadow, there's a fire. It could be snatchers or a member of the Order, or just some muggles out camping. I wasn't kidding when I said this could benefit you. I'm hoping to find help. Maybe you'll get your wish in the process."

He calmed, analyzing the news.

"So," she said, raising a finger and poking him square on the chest, "shut up."

His eyebrows rose in surprise, she poked him again, "pipe down, work _with_ me," and again, this time a little harder, "and _maybe_ , you'll get to go home," she finished, leaving her finger against his chest a second longer to emphasize her point.

It was almost humorous then; Draco's mouth fell slightly as he quickly racked his brain for an inevitable rebellious retort.

Sighing in exhaustion, Hermione dropped her hand back to her side, "you know Malfoy..." eyes sweeping the grass before landing back on his, "I want to go home too."

His lips closed and her eyes shifted to them as they thinned into a straight, unreadable line. Catching herself, she glanced back up his face. The rage was gone, and she couldn't identify the emotion swimming behind his eyes.

The way she saw it, they currently didn't have much of a choice in the matter. So she turned away from him and marched into the open.

For a second time that day, Draco was at a loss of what to say. Her boldness was truly remarkable. He clutched his aching ribcage and tried to see if the horizon held smoke. It didn't.

Hermione was already making some le-way ahead of him. Once again, he followed her until he reached her, and quietly walked beside her as they had done earlier. She seemed unmoved by his earlier threat and for some reason, that unnerved him. Sneaking a glance at her, he found her focused and determined. On what, he could only guess. They both knew they would most likely find snatchers. He would be brought home to his parents and she would be executed or held as bait for Potter. Gryffindor stupidity he rationalized.

Nevertheless, Granger wasn't stupid. He crossed his arms as he entered deep thought. She could be planning to leverage what she'd eavesdropped. And he couldn't be sure exactly how much information he'd unknowingly given her. Despite her claim of quasi-secrecy, he didn't believe her for a second. It explained her composure with him. She was calm and overconfident; she thought he was going down, no matter what.

It wouldn't happen.

"Malfoy?" Hermione turned to him, noticing him fall behind.

His anger resurfaced as he looked at her. He couldn't think of another way. He didn't have a way to kill or obliviate her. His steps slowed in the realization of what that entailed. He had to keep her away from Voldemort and the deatheaters until he was sure that pretty little mouth of hers could be sewn shut.


	18. Chapter 18

They had walked for miles. Night emerged and starlight twinkled down at them through the frosty air. His feet were sore and his hunger had come and gone; leaving his stomach consistently achy. As if that wasn't enough, for the past three hours, his head provided a thumping, throbbing symphony that echoed and bounced inside his skull.

He'd told her, of course, but every time he stopped for a blessed break she'd turned and insisted they press on. It was miserable. But at least he wasn't alone in it. Her nervous gaze flickered across the landscape all day, occasionally glancing up to the sky as well. Her anxiety was palpable. He'd watched her fiddle with her wand as she walked, a little too frigid in her posture.

He couldn't blame her. They both wore dark clothing that would stick out to anyone looking for them in the much paler grass they walked through. Still, she hadn't slowed her pace.

He held back a groan. She was a bloody relentless witch.

"Well, I think that's as far as we're going to get tonight."

"Finally!" He cried exasperatedly, letting his weight drop him to the ground. The world around him spun with the action. He leaned forward, cradling his head.

The night was bright with the moon high and full. Conjuring a light would act as a beacon, so Hermione decided against it. She sat and joined him, rustling the tall grass and dropping her wand between her crossed legs. They also couldn't light a fire. That meant no heat source. She looked at the grass around them. Maybe they could build a hut or some sort of shelter with it?

Malfoy grumbled under his breath in front of her.

No, probably not. Asking for his help was definitely out of the question. He was drained.

She absentmindedly kneaded her thighs. They were both exhausted.

"What do you have for headaches in there?" he asked, nodding to her pouch and interrupting her thoughts.

"Sorry, I don't have anything to help with things like that anymore," she said earnestly. She was still a couple of ingredients short for a pain potion.

"It's fine," he sighed, "just... don't talk for a while," he said, waiting for the world to straighten again.

She quirked an eyebrow, looking over his hunching form in the moonlight. It's not like they'd been talking all day. In fact, they hadn't spoken a word in a couple of hours. Her lips turned up a little. How to shut up Draco Malfoy: utterly exhaust him.

The cut in his shirt had, at some point, ripped a little more, giving her a sort of open view of his chest. She could see the very tip of his healing injury, as the darkened skin peeked from behind the fabric. Her eyes glided a little higher, his pale skin stretching over his pectoral.

Lingering a moment, she saw the muscle contract as he brought his arm down to massage his calf. Transfixed, she watched it expand as he gave a long sigh, lazily rubbing at his leg.

An image clouded over her mind.

He sighed again, this time, in a bed lying next to her. She pictured him quiet and exhausted...but in a completely different manner.

Something tugged below her hips.

Grabbing her wand, Hermione shot up from her position on the ground and turned away slightly in her step, ashamed of the scarlet creeping up her cheeks.

He looked up at her, surprised by her sudden movement.

"I'm going to look for food," she announced, not looking at him.

"...sure," he rolled his eyes, not really in the mood to analyze her behavior.

Hermione nodded and pushed aside the grass, gratefully taking some long-legged strides away from him.

What was wrong with her?

* * *

She pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to calm herself. This was Draco Malfoy she was thinking about. The guy whose loyalties were to himself, or the dark lord, whatever was more convenient. The guy who bullied and terrorized her in school, the guy who haughtily believes he's far more superior in every way. The guy who threatened her at least once every day and openly admitted to wanting to kill her.

The guy she was stuck with.

And apparently, she was developing some kind of twisted reversal of Stockholm syndrome.

She crossed her arms, the crisp air chilling her through her clothes. She wasn't that desperate...was she? The question resonated with her and she dug a foot in the ground, not willing to explore it.

A couple of steps in front of her, the grass rustled and a hair hopped into view, emerging from its burrow.

Her stomach lurched. _Food_.

She exclaimed an incantation, producing and firing an arrow, but the spell missed and the rabbit took off in a frightened frenzy.

"Bollocks," she groaned and pushed her legs to run after it.

* * *

"Malfoy?" he heard her shout from a distance. She hadn't been gone that long. She must have caught whatever he heard her chase.

"Over here," he answered evenly. There was no reason to shout. The meadow was proving to be a quiet area.

"Where exactly?" she sounded from a distance, "could you stand up a moment?"

"Just follow the sound of my voice Granger – you'll find me".

A couple of minutes later her silhouette emerged from the grass and she sat down across from him.

"And? Where's the food?"

"I take it the headaches gone?" she said, trying to make herself comfortable.

"It'll be better after I eat. Where is it?"

"I couldn't catch it," she responded, a little deflated.

"What do you mean you couldn't catch it? You have a wand don't you?" he grumbled condescendingly.

"Look, it was a hare, it zig-zagged, I chased it but I lost sight of it. It got away," she defended.

Does he think he could have done better? Her eyes blazed at him and her chest puffed, ready for a fight.

But Malfoy didn't hold her fire. She noticed he held his knees close to his chest, shivering, and his eyes had closed, decidedly ignoring her.

Hermione reached for her bag, opened it, and sunk her arm into it, looking for the only heat source they would have the privilege of having tonight.

"Here," she said, and Draco opened his eyes as her potions book thudded to his feet, "It's going to be cold tonight."

"Then start a fire," he snapped.

She looked at him poignantly as if silently questioning his intelligence.

"You know I can't just light a fire," she finally sighed. "We have no means of building a shelter, I can't control a fire and it's the perfect way of telling the world where I am." He began ripping pages and stuffing them in his shirt.

"So we freeze tonight then? I mean I remember you having a good night last night-" she blushed at his reference-, "but I bloody well froze. No point fussing about getting caught if we don't actually wake up tomorrow."

He wasn't wrong, she thought, rubbing her arms. Tonight was already colder than the last.

He tossed her the book as he finished stuffing his shirt.

What were they going to do?

His teeth chattered as a breeze rolled by, "seriously Granger, this isn't funny," 

No. It wasn't.

Hermione didn't answer as she copied him, ripping the pages from her book and making little balls to stuff down the front of her shirt.

"C'mon Granger think."

"I am. Fire is out. No trees to shelter the wind-" she mumbled as she closed her eyes. Trembling as the wind picked up again she went through ideas.

"Spells," he tried.

"None that will last all night,"

"How about for right now?"

Hermione picked up her wand and pointed an incantation to him with the intention of blowing hot air his way. The wind picked up in strength, taking away the heat from her wand before it had a chance to reach him.

"Any time Granger!"

"It's not working!" she hollered back, frustrated.

Hermione dropped her arm. They stared at one another for a moment. Forming an idea, Hermione looked away and reached into her bag, retrieving the clothes she used last night.

"What are you doing?"

"Adding layers," she replied as she tried to fit Harry's shirt on top of her crumply and deformed shape, the paper loudly crunching as she forced it over her torso.

"You want Ron's?" She asked, grabbing the shirt and lifting her arm to him.

Draco hesitated.

Noticing his internal struggle, she pipped up, "he'd never know. And honestly, I already feel a little warmer."

Deciding he'd hate himself another day for this, he reached out and yanked the garment out of her hand before pulling it over his head. He hadn't needed to force it. He took small comfort in knowing the Weasel had gained some weight. Particularly in the abdomen as the shirt easily stretched over his frame.

Hermione laid down and brought her knees to her chest, seeking maximal heat absorption. She heard him mumble as he followed suit, turning away from her.

* * *

He didn't know how much time had passed but he had yet to get a wink of sleep. Granger had clearly lied to him. His shivers, which looked more like convulsions, hadn't subsided despite the extra layer of clothing.

"Granger, I c-can't take this anymore," Draco said loudly, hoping to wake her up if she was lost in a blissful sleep.

"N-Neither can I," she answered immediately.

Of course, she's awake.

The sound of crunching behind him made him turn his head to look, turning over completely when he saw Hermione on her knees with her wand pointed to him.

"What the f-fuck are you-"

A rope poured out from her wand, binding his legs together.

"Argh!" he roared sitting up, "what the hell?!"

He raged, pulling at the ropes, but she'd already shuffled her way over to him.

"Hands," she demanded, raising her wand once more.

"No," he recoiled, hiding his arms from her sight, "my hands are already numb Granger, you're going to cut off the circulation."

"Then I'll tie your arms," she reasoned, the cold wind whipping her hair about.

"Sod off!"

Another gust of wind on her face pushed her over the edge.

With the strength of both of her hands, she grabbed his closest shoulder and applied her entire body weight on it, causing him to roll onto his back. She was tired and frozen and frankly, she wasn't in the mood for his shit.

With his arms now exposed, she shot another rope from her wand that quickly wrapped itself around his arms. She was getting rather good at that spell.

"Granger-" he seethed, rolling on his side away from her.

"Oh, you sod off it!" she snapped and dropped down next to him. She was desperate. So she was doing what her barely functioning brain push her to do – seek warmth.

Draco turned his head to yell at her but was met with her bushy brown hair. He whipped his head back around to get it out of his face. Then her back collided with his.

What...the fuck...

Had Granger lost her marbles? She was actively pressing her back into him.

And was that her _ass_ too?

Draco bounced on the ground to get away from her. Then instantly regretted it. The wind blew up his back, reigniting the goosebumps that had suddenly disappeared moments before.

Quick as lightning, Hermione turned to him, slightly hovering over him as she pressed her wand into his cheek.

"I swear to God Malfoy, I will petrify you as I did to Neville in first year, I'll do it right now and without regret if you don't stop moving. And I won't lift the curse until morning," she added to get her point across.

He didn't answer her and didn't move. She took it he understood and she resumed her spot behind him, pressing her spine and ass into his. Draco screwed his eyes shut. Partially in fear, partially in disbelief.

Having Granger ruling over him with an iron fist was going to physically start to make him sick. Frustration swelled within him, filling his chest with bitterness and animosity. He was practically her slave; using his mind and body at her beck and call. His thoughts darkened. Under Voldemort's rule, it'd be the other way around. He mulled it over, imagining different scenarios where he could exact revenge. He shuddered; some thoughts were better than others.

Five minutes passed and his shivering ceased, the heat of her body spreading to him like a slow-burning flame, warming him from the outside in.

Sooner, rather than later, sleep and exhaustion overcame them both.

* * *

Sunlight beamed on Draco's face, rousing him from the best slumber he'd had in a week. He spread his arms, but his restraints prohibited it. A gust of hot air blew across the back of his neck, down his shirt, and slithered onto his shoulder blades. His already semi-hard member twitched in response. He sighed, imagining dead unicorns and picturing his aunt Bellatrix.

He knew it was Granger behind him. He refused to let her be the reason his morning could be so good. He turned his head a little to look at her from the corner of his eye. At some point, she'd turned around in her sleep and from the feel of it, she had her cold nose nuzzled into the back of his neck. He looked down her body. She'd apparently spooned him too.

He turned his gaze back ahead of him, resting his head back on the dry ground. She'd been impressively frightening last night. Enough to make him clam up at her temper. It was the little bit of ice her personality secretly harbored. The part he'd only glimpsed at before. But to his surprise, he didn't hate the proximity. The thought turned over in his head again and again. He should feel revulsion. But he just felt...numb.

She sighed a little breath again, the hot air brushing against his spine. His cock wanted to respond. He sat up abruptly, disgusted with himself, the horror of his behavior finally crashing down on him. She was a mudblood. And not just any mudblood. Potter's mudblood. The loudmouthed, preachy, miss perfect know-it-all. And his dick apparently couldn't care less. All this time alone with her was screwing with his head. That or she scrambled things real good while she was in there.

Hermione awoke at Draco's quick movement.

"Untie me" he ordered, peeking at her from behind his bangs while keeping his back to her.

"Oh," she said, still groggy from sleep. She fumbled around the ground looking for her wand. It wasn't in her pocket.

"Now, Granger," he pressed. His morning wood wasn't going away and that was _not_ something she needed to know. _Not_ a conversation he wanted to experience.

"Just a moment," she said, already irritated by his impatience. Finding it, she waved the incantation his way. As the day before, his restraints slithered away and disappeared.

"I'm going for a walk," he said and jumped up and into the grass, out of her sight.

"But we'll be walking all day," she answered, confused at his sudden need to escape her.

Then she recalled her position this morning.

Ah. That explained it.

Hermione frowned a little at the thought. He was probably freaked out. She rubbed the sand away from her eyes. Well, he could deal with it however he pleased. The truth was she didn't regret it. He was warm, and to her dismay, she realized it provided her with some comfort, in light of their strange and otherwise uncomfortable situation.

Hermione picked herself up and pulled out the crumpled paper underneath her clothes and stored them back into her bag. Might as well re-use it. Then she took off Harry's extra shirt. The day was warm and it was no longer necessary.

She hesitated to put it away as her mind turned to him. She ran her fingers over the hem and clutched it tightly. She missed him and wished he was out here with her.

"Granger! Granger get it!" called Malfoy from afar.

What now? She thought, looking up.

She tried not to giggle as she heard, more than she saw, Draco zigzagging around the field. The crumpling of the papers in his shirt exaggerated the hilarity as he ran to and fro like a crazed man.

"Useless woman, do something!" He yelled at her.

Useless woman? That wiped the smirk off her face. She sobered up, remembering who she was dealing with.

Dropping Harry's shirt into her bag, she caught up to him, ready to tell him just how useless she was going to be to him when the hare ran passed her.

"For fuck's sake, Granger," heaved Malfoy, waving his hand out, "you were right there."

"On it," she stated, turning on a dime. She chased it, running this way and that, shooting arrows from her wand and completely missing it every time. It ran by Draco, who finished plucking the remaining paper from under his shirts as Hermione followed, hot on its tail.

"Alright stop, stop," Draco grabbed Hermione's arm as she ran by, her momentum forcing her swing around and look at him.

"What are you doing?! It's getting away!"

"Stop," he repeated, "The bloody animal isn't leaving the area. You've been running in circles with it for almost five minutes. We need a plan."

Hunched over and trying to catch her breath, she wiped her brow, "well do you have a plan?"

She shook his hand from her arm.

"We need to corner it," he frowned.

"There's no corners as far as we can see Malfoy."

"Then we get it where we can't see it."

Hermione waited for him to finish. He waited for it to come to her.

"Oh! It's burrow!"

"Exactly. It'll calm down and return to its home," he said, scanning the area, "where we'll whack it."

"That's actually pretty crafty Malfoy," she said, offering him a small smile. He returned it with a proud smirk of his own.

"Well, I am a Slytherin," he said, soaking up her compliment.

The smile widened on her face, "yes, I know, how can I forget?"

He stood a moment, basking in the glory of his ingenious plan.

"No really, how can I forget? I've been trying to for years now and I can't seem to forget about it," she said, her smile turning into a rather cheeky grin.

His eyes darted to hers. She was being playful with him. His mind back peddled and drew the line. It was wrong. He wasn't one of her friends.

"Let's go find it," he clipped and strode forward, keeping an eye on the ground.

Feeling a little disappointed with his lack of reaction, she started in a different direction, surveying as she went.

She called him over when she found it. It was nothing more than a little bump of dirt with a cleverly hidden hole surrounded by dry grass.

"We need to draw it out where you can be waiting for it at the entrance," stated Draco. Hermione nodded and stood a few feet from the hole, wand at the ready.

"Now what?"

"Now I frighten it," he said, taking a couple of steps away, presumably atop of the den itself.

Draco looked up at her and she nodded. She stared down the hole, prepared. He jumped up and landed hard on the ground.

Nothing happened. He tried it again. And again.

"Well," said Hermione, "it was a good plan."

"It'll work. It's deeper than I expected," he said, looking around for a heavy rock he could throw down, "we just need a bigger disturbance".

Hermione's stomach gave a growl. Hunger made itself known and it wasn't happy with her.

"Let's keep moving. Maybe we'll come across that camp today-"

"Ya or maybe they've already packed up and gone. Then we would have wasted the only guaranteed food source we have," he ranted, angrily hopping on random areas around the hole.

Hermione bit her lip as a thought floated into her mind. A very, very dangerous idea that would most certainly turn Malfoy back into a bumbling zombie. Her brows furrowed. Or worse.

Her stomach gave another growl, uncaring of the risky choice she contemplated.

"You're sure a big enough distraction will have it running out of this exact hole?" she asked, weighing her options.

He looked at her, confused a moment, "well I presume so Granger, I didn't notice another one in the area."

Taking a deep breath she made a decision. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the other wand Malfoy had used...when she'd performed an unforgivable curse. She switched it to her other hand, in case she needed to use her own.

He stared it a moment.

"How long have you had that?"

"Since we escaped the deatheaters," she said honestly, watching him closely.

Draco visibly calmed as the wheels in his mind came to life. She wanted to give it to him. It was his way out. No, not quite, he thought, eyes drifting back up to Hermione. He needed to silence the mudblood first. Squishing down his excitement, he carefully calculated his reaction.

"Well, toss it over then," he said, nonchalantly.

"That's not really what I had in mind," she said, bracing herself.

"How do you mean?"

"What I mean is I'll give it to you...when I'm sure you'll give it back when we're done," she said, lifting her wand at him a little to make her point.

"As in...an unbreakable vow?" he questioned.

"No, you need a third party to make an unbreakable vow," she replied, "I mean...as in I'm absolutely sure you give it back."

What the fuck was she on about? There was nothing in this world that would make him give it back to her and she knew it. No amount of cruiciatus curse would compel him to give it back to her once the wand was in his hands.

_Compel._

Somewhere, a lightbulb turned on.

"Granger," he started, bringing his hands up and taking a step back, suddenly afraid, "no."

"It's the only way to make it work," she argued, taking a step forward, "it guarantees my safety, and I've already cast it before so I know I can do it again-" she said, advancing some more.

"Granger that was a fluke and you know it," he said, taking another step back, "And I'm still suffering the after-effects of that little miracle. No. You're risking my life. Again."

"No, look," she said stopping a couple of steps in front of him. "I won't do it without your permission. You get to choose. Either we try it again with a strong chance it'll get us a meal today, or we don't do it at all and we keep walking, and hope something else will come along."

"Or, you give me the wand, my brain doesn't fry and we get to eat," he replied, opening his hands to her. It was so close.

"Malfoy, choose," she said, pointing her wand to the rabbit hole behind her and holding up the other wand with her hand, trying to convey the choice she wanted him to make.

"I choose-" his arm darted out for hers with the speed of a seeker. His other hand wrapped itself around her neck as he hooked his leg around her smaller one. This was it, his window to freedom. In a bought of speed and strength, he flipped her down, holding tightly to the wand in her hand. He let her go as she fell, standing tall and beaming a smile he thought he'd never experience again.

Hermione landed with an "Oof," alarmed and mortified.

"You know you should really hold on tighter to your wands, Granger," he said, radiating glee as he twirled the wand in his hand, "it could without a doubt come in handy to you some time."

Reacting on principle, Hermione sent a stun at him, which he stumbled but deflected as she scrambled back to her feet.

"Easy," he said, wiping the smirk from his face, trying to guide the situation. He kept the wand pointed down, itching to use it.

But she only saw red, pointing her wand at his nose.

"I'm hungry. You're hungry. Let's focus on getting the rabbit," he said, trying hard to ignore the euphoria of magic activating inside his veins.

She stood there – heaving in anger and at a complete loss of words.

He waved his hand at her, "go stand in front of the hole again, I'll scare it out."

"You tricked me."

"You gave me an impossible choice."

"Bollocks!"

He was going to need to make her see the logic.

"Granger you can't blame me for trying it. You would have done the same if the tables were turned."

He knew she knew it was true.

"So now what?" she said, breathing heavily through her nose, but more level headed than ten seconds ago. Her tailbone throbbed where she landed on it, but she kept her focus on him. Her situation just turned from miserable to sinister, and she racked her brain to try and find a way out of it.

"We hunt," he replied.

She wasn't falling for it.

"Is this...a truce?"

"For now," he said honestly. Granger was a formidable opponent, he could admit. But the adrenaline high was just calling for him to strike. He felt energized while she practically trembled in fear, like the tiny hare they were about to slaughter. Draco smirked; some of last night's scenario's playing through his head. Oh the things he could do.

"You go stand at the hole then," she said, grinding her teeth and gathering her courage as she walked back up to him.

That wouldn't do. Draco frowned. Then he'd be the one distracted by the hare.

"I don't even know the spell, Granger. Let's get this over with."

"Then I'll teach you," she persisted. It didn't take a goblin to figure out he wanted her distracted. The moment she was, he would strike.

"You know what? I'd rather bloody do it anyways," he said, walking past her and making his way in front of the hole.

"I thought you said you didn't know the spell?" She asked sarcastically.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he pointed his wand over his shoulder and shot off an arrow that made a wide arc into the distance before frightening some birds as it landed.

"I lied."

Fine. She thought. She would play his game.

She angled her wand to the ground, staring at him. She had a plan of her own.

"You ready?"

He nodded his response and lowered his eyes to the hole, bringing his wand up.

"Bombarda," he pronounced clearly. Whatever plan she had flew out the window at his preemptive strike. The ground in front of him burst open, exploding, completely destroying the rabbit's mound and nest underneath it; and effectively blinding Hermione as the earth shot into her eyes and the dirt beneath her crumbled, making her lose her footing.

She threw up a protection charm, desperately rubbing her eyes. He struck it down in two shots. She threw up another one, rapidly blinking as she pushed her feet in reverse, standing up and trying to gain some distance between them.

Draco advanced. He needed to immobilize her. She skillfully blocked both of his disarming charms while _blind_.

"Petrificus totalus!" He shouted.

"Protego!" she warded him off again. His spell struck her shield with a loud resounding bang.

 _Holy shit,_ thought Hermione in alarm. That was a really strong hit.

Clearing the rest of the debris out of her eyes, she started fighting back.

"Stupify!" She cried, but he dodged it.

They continued their duel, lights of every color flying across the field. Evenly matched, Hermione eventually lost her temper.

"Come on Malfoy! You want to kill me that badly you're going to need to do it properly," she hollered at him.

It wasn't his intention. He was figuring it out as he went. But he knew he needed to find a way to keep her quiet. To put it in her own words, _it guaranteed his safety_. Obliviating her memory was his best bet. He just needed her to stop moving.

She shot him a stinging hex and it hit the tip of his elbow; causing it to blister and welt as if he's just suffered a terrible allergic reaction.

Fuck it. Screw immobilizing her.

"Diffindo," he yelled, intending to cut her down.

She threw up a guard and sent back a tripping jinx.

He jumped to avoid it. Gracefully handing on his feet, he twirled and fired a particularly nasty one; "Sectumsempra!"

Hermione let out a gasp, ducking and rolling out of the way, feeling the heat of it graze the back of her thigh as she went.

_That would have been bad._

Hermione got back onto her knees and sent him another stun before ducking back down into the grass. He shot a couple more curses but they missed. She peeped back out, cast the reducto curse, and plopped back down.

He blocked it right before it hit him.

The spells were becoming more dangerous. They were both acting recklessly and the situation was quickly escalating out of hand.

"Incendio," yelled Draco, waving his wand in her general direction as he marched ahead. _No hiding._

The yellow grass absorbed the flames like a hungry wildebeest, grazing one patch onto the other, quickly reducing it to ash and spreading quickly.

"Let's have it then mudblood!" he called, provoking her as only he knew he could. Then, from his left, a powerful jet of water emerged from the field, knocking him clean off his feet. He fell with a dull thud, head smacking the ground and instantly reviving his migraine from the night before.

Hermione got up from her hiding place and hosed down the immediate danger as the flames licked around her. Then she turned and swiftly did the same to the surrounding area. But the fire raged beyond her now, and the once quiet meadow seemed to come to life, panicked rodents and other animal sounds filled her ears as their homes burned around them.

The danger was overwhelming. This had to stop.

Pouring all of her heart into her concentration, Hermione incanted "Aguamenti." A wave of water vigorously burst from her wand, the kind of surf you only see on a rough day by the ocean. It flooded as far as the eye could see.

With renewed hope, she ran in a wide circle, her jet slowly turning with her, like a sprinkler, and muffling all escaping flames in the vicinity.

"Locomotor Mortis." Her legs locked together mid-stride and she crashed to the ground.

"I gotta hand it to you Granger, that last one hurt like a _bitch_ ," said Malfoy, striding towards her.

She turned to the voice in a fury. This was all his fault. Everything was his fault.

"Then I hope this one does too. Stupify!"

Once again he blocked it, but this time she was ready. She'd already unbounded herself and got on her hands and knees, raising her arm at him.

"Expelliarmus," she said, with as much power as she could muster.

This time, the wand flew out of his hand as if an imaginary string had yanked it. It sore high above her head and landed somewhere behind her. He stopped in his tracks. She didn't bother trying to get up to catch it. There was no need.

Sitting back on her ankles, she dug her head in the crooks of her elbows.

It was over.

Draco stared at the wand as it flew off into the burnt field and took a step back in disbelief. She disarmed him. With one of the simplest spells in the book. He looked back down at her. Her hands covered her head as she knelt on the ground, resembling a turtle. Her wand was still tightly gripped between her shaking fingers.

He needed to get out of there. He turned and ran.

Hermione heard him flee. She rocked herself back into a squatting position and considered her options once more. On the bright side, he was wandless again. And she knew never to let him near one for as long as she so lived.

_He actually tried to kill me._

It was an intoxicating thought and her eyes morphed into a shade of dark they'd never seen before.

Pushing herself up, she ran after him.

Draco ran as fast as he could; his lungs begging him to stop. His head screamed, threatening to shut him down if he continued to push himself past his limit.

"Stupify!" he heard from somewhere behind him. He looked back to see how far she was when the red light hit him. He was hurled to the ground once again. This time, his ears rang with the impact.

He slowly tried to push himself up. When he couldn't, he rolled onto his back instead, trying desperately to overcome his shell shock.

"Reducto!" she screamed, the earth blew up beside his face, making him scream in terror.

Hermione reached him.

Giving his head a firm shake, he tried to crawl back up. She launched herself on top of him, pinning him down and straddling his waist. One hand grabbed a fistful of his collar while the other gripped her wand like a knife and she dug it into his chest.

"Don't," he wheezed.

Red sparks spilled from her wand, burning a hole through Ron's shirt, right above his scar.

"Stop," he panicked, bringing his hands onto hers and trying to pull her wand off him.

She didn't budge. It reached his own shirt, easily eating through the silk and scorching him with an intensity that seared his skin.

"Granger you could kill me," he said, trying to push her off in freight. But Hermione held still, digging it deeper into his wound and forcing him to flatten against the ground.

"Why shouldn't I?" she rebutted.

"We've been through this," he wheezed, "you couldn't live with yourself."

"Well the more I think about it, the more it seems logical for me to off you- after all- you were going to kill me anyways right?"

"No-" he wailed as she increased the power, the wound re-opening as she drilled.

"That's what you've been telling me since we've started this little adventure!" Her voice escalated, "that's what you just tried to do! You set fire to an entire ecosystem trying to do it!" she finished, screaming in his face.

"I-"

"No! Why shouldn't I kill you?!" She stopped the onslaught on his chest and leaned forward, jabbing the tip of her wand under his jaw and boring her eyes into his.

He looked up at her in despair, breathing rapidly - "please don't kill me Granger," he begged, his eyes wide and teary. "I want to live," he said, voice croaking.

Something inside Hermione broke then. All the frustrations and fears of the past couple of days resurfacing. Her fatigue, her hunger, her anxiety of Harry and Ron's wellbeing, her fear for the fate of Ron's parents, her fear of the future to the wizarding world, and all the resentment she held against Malfoy seemed to pour out in an instant.

Without thinking, she let out a wail and threw her wand off to the side. Lowering herself completely on top of him, she curled her arms around his nape and hid her face into his neck and cried inexhaustibly.


	19. Chapter 19

He tensed, freezing like a statue on top of the smoldering ground.

_I'm alive._

He was so sure she was going to kill him.

He'd prattled on uncontrollably as she screeched in his face, not really thinking about what he was saying as he begged for her mercy.

Audibly heaving, his lungs forced him to release the breath he'd held as the sun beat down on his face, his cloudy eyes glistening with moisture.

He was used to fear. He lived it every day at the Manor.

He was scared of the Dark Lord, for fear that one day his family be persecuted. In a matter of speaking, he could say his feet bled from the number of eggshells he was forced to walk on. Hell, he'd been _really_ scared when the ground had crumbled under his feet, hurling him off the cliff into the lake. That was heart-stopping enough. But he'd been _terrified_ of Hermione as she willfully, and literally, tore him a new hole. Never before had he seen such unadulterated rage from her.

A single tear slipped past his eyes and onto his cheeks as he lay there unmoving.

_And yet_...no matter what he'd done to her. Despite _everything_ he'd said to her. Regardless of how blinded by rage or how frenzied with animosity she'd become.

She let him live.

Another ragged breath escaped him. He couldn't understand her.

She brokenly sobbed into his ear, holding him tightly as her chest heaved on his, making him wince.

Inhaling deeply, he tried controlling his breathing.

The one thing he knew for sure; he had lost.

He had every means to escape and he hadn't gone. He could have apparated. He could have freed himself from the misery. He couldn't even remember why that damn rabbit was so important. He had Potter's money in his pocket; he could have chosen any restaurant and devoured the menu. He could have gone to the ministry and informed them of her whereabouts, dammed be the consequences. Maybe he would have even been rewarded.

His face scrunched up in anguish, his self-control backsliding as he let out a shaky breath. He could have gone _home_.

He balled his fists as a new wave of tears slipped down either side of his face, moistening Hermione's hair as they went. He banged the ground and let out a cry of frustration and defeat.

If she noticed, she didn't react.

Swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down heavily as he came to terms with reality, slowly sobering up. They were nothing but fantastical desires and delusive thoughts. He knew he couldn't leave. And his one chance to obliviate her was lost.

Hermione's sobbing finally calmed, but she remained in the crook of his neck, effectively hiding her face from his. He was silently grateful for it. He wasn't keen on letting her see him in his obvious mental distress. But also because her weeping would remind him of her time spent at Malfoy Manor, and the screams and tears that had ripped from her as Bellatrix tortured her on the hardwood floor.

The experience had been...scarring.

Not that he cared. It wasn't that. Torture sessions were just another regular day as of late, with death eaters rounding up old school mates and blood traitors. Hell, even that Lovegood girl had been locked away for a while. But with Granger, he'd been expected to stand there, and observe. "Study and learn" his aunt had called it. Like it was a class demonstration he'd be quizzed on. So he watched, stoically, and waited for it to be over. After they'd been rescued, he waited for the panic in the room to settle. Then he briskly walked to the nearest washroom and emptied the contents of this stomach. He grew up with Granger. He saw her nearly every day in class. He knew what subjects she was best at and in which ones she asked the most questions. He knew her insecurities, mostly because he would be the one to cause them. And he knew she loved her idiot friends, golden boy wonder and simpleton extraordinaire.

But despite his hatred for the guy, he hadn't tattled on Potter for a reason. Threatening to torture someone was one thing. That was easy. It could even be fun... but being the sole reason for a massacre, that was another.

Not that it mattered much in the end. They still got caught; he still had to watch Granger get maimed.

Miraculously, they all escaped. And with the help of his father's old house-elf no less.

Hermione hiccupped on top of him, making him wince as her body jerked itself involuntarily, rubbing painfully against his partially reopened wound.

"Granger," he whispered as another one rocked her body, "you're crushing me."

"I don't care," she mumbled back, letting out a heavy breath.

"Please?" He asked, placing his hands on her ribs and lifting a little when she hiccupped again, determined to stop her fucking body from jerking over him.

She lifted her head to look at him, uncaring of her wild appearance, and he quickly averted his bloodshot eyes, muttering a curse as she scrutinized him.

Malfoy _never_ says please.

She hiccupped again and he threw his head back, his fingers digging into her and slightly raising her up once more to relieve the pressure, favoring one side as he did.

Hermione furrowed her brow and let herself slowly roll-off to lay beside him, retracting her arms from him and propping herself up on her forearm. She spotted his injury, mildly bleeding, and its taint on her shirt, a mirror image of his.

"You should probably put pressure on that," she muttered.

"I know," he breathed and brought a hand up to do so. He closed his eyes, head still swimming as he tried to swallow his shame. Merlin, he was pathetic.

Suddenly, she placed her hand on top of his, adding to the weight. He opened his eyes to glare at her, her eyes puffy and filled with regret and sadness.

"Don't pity me, Granger. It's unbecoming."

"It's called compassion Malfoy, and it's something you sorely lack."

Choosing to ignore her, he closed his eyes again and concentrated on his breathing.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, actively avoiding conversation until Hermione spoke up.

"If it doesn't stop bleeding I'll have to cauterize it."

His eyes snapped open, "like hell you will."

"If I don't it'll increase your chance of inf-"

Unexpectantly, Hermione stopped herself and looked out in the distance.

_Oh no._

She whipped her head around, straining to see or hear the grumble of voices she'd heard moments before. She couldn't decipher the words spoken, but she definitely heard more than two people in the vicinity.

And they were in a _very_ open field.

She turned back to Draco.

"Malfoy, we need to apparate," she whispered, getting up into a crouching position and looking around for her wand.

"I don't think s-"

"Shhh!" She said, pointing a finger to the sky, effectively ending his sentence.

He heard them then, the voices. He paled, "Granger, I'm not lying. I'll splinch."

"You should be fine now-" she said, finding her wand and looking around for the other.

He pushed his other hand against the ground and sat up, "I was until this morning!" He hissed.

"What do you mean-"

"I mean when you fucking concussed me-"

"I never-"

"When I hit the ground Granger!" He shouted in a whisper. She looked back at him, eyes wide with the realization that one of them was about to be fucked.

Then, far in the distance, they appeared over a hill. They were at least a dozen people heading their way.

Hermione found the other wand and shoved it into her bag in haste.

"Draco, please," she begged him; "We need to try." She couldn't handle twelve death eaters. And while there stood a small chance they supported the side of the light, the odds weren't in her favor. The Order was rarely seen in such a big group out in the open.

Draco lifted his hand off his chest and turned his palm her way, shaking his head. It was saturated as the blood slowly continued to leak from the gap in his chest.

His eyes nervously flicked between her face and to the men ahead, his thoughts aligning with her speculation. Pressing his hand back onto his breast, he voiced their thoughts aloud.

"This is it Granger. Who's party is it gonna be? Yours or mine?"

Anxiety gripped her.

Draco gave her a lopsided smile. One that reminded her of Ron when she needed cheering up.

"Just think," he said with a dark chuckle. "One of us will finally get a nice, warm, _tasty_ meal."

She didn't laugh.

"Hey!" shouted one of the men who picked up the pace to reach them. Hermione gripped her wand so hard her knuckles turned white. And to Draco's surprise, she stood up and stepped in front of him, facing the stranger as he approached.

The man was heavy. He had a round and large button nose and stark white stubble that stood out in contrast to his dark skin. His large tunic was a deep green and he wore a bright yellow sash that barely reached around his abdomen. He huffed for a moment in front of her, sweat stains apparent before he addressed them in a booming voice.

"Are you two alright?" He asked in a heavy accent.

Neither of them answered right away.

"Oh," Hermione finally answered stupidly, not expecting the question. She turned her head back to Draco a little stunned. Were they...part of the Order after all?

"I splinched," resounded Draco from behind her.

It wasn't his father's men – one, because he didn't recognize him. Two, because that question would have _never_ been asked. And according to that dumb look on her face, Granger obviously didn't know him either.

The man took a couple of heavy steps beside Hermione to look at Draco, who took his hand off to show him the bleed.

"Hey!" Said the man again, turning to wave over the rest of the approaching crowd.

Turning back to Draco, he furrowed his eyebrows, "that does not look like a splinch."

"It's a splinch," he promised, staring fixedly at him.

The man looked away from him and glanced around the area.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"It was like this when we got here," responded Draco. The man furrowed his eyebrows again at him.

"What. It's the truth."

The man stayed silent a moment, observing him.

"God, aren't you going to do anything? I'm bleeding out on this wretched-"

"Sorry about him," said Hermione, coming to her senses and walking up to the man, "my name is Jane. He can be a little fussy when he's in pain," she said, sticking her thumb out to Draco.

The man gave her a small smile, revealing a large gap between his front teeth, and his eyebrows made a quick up and down motion as if to say, _apparently_.

"Hello Jane, my name is Aballach, but you may call me Ab," he said, a jovial personality coming to light.

"Are you ok?" Asked another man as the rest of them finally arrived.

"Yes I am, but my friend here needs some help," she said, looking back to Draco, who looked like he was about to throw a hissy fit, "can you help us?" She added, looking back.

"Our village is about an hour walk from here," answered Ab, "Do you think you can make it?" he asked, looking to Draco.

"No, I can't," he whined.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Same old Malfoy.

"He'll be fine," she said. His eyes shot daggers at her.

"Did you guys start the fire?" asked a man on her left.

"Like I said," answered Draco, hand still pressed against his wound, "we just got here."

"It's true," she said jumping in. He wasn't sounding very convincing. The scenario looked suspicious enough.

"What happened to you," asked the same man.

"We apparated, he splinched, we stopped mid-travel, and when we crashed I landed on top of him," she finished, pulling at her shirt to show them the fresh bloodstain.

"And where were you headed?" Asked Ab.

"We-," said Hermione, tripping on her words and suddenly becoming flustered. Where would she and Malfoy be going? Together? "We-"

"We were going home," interjected Draco.

It was a stroke of luck that Hermione was facing away from the crowd because her eyebrows shot up past her hairline.

'I see," said, Ab, clearly having reservations, his eyes flickering between them, "and where is home?"

"London," answered Hermione immediately. There was no way she was going to let Malfoy dictate their direction of travel.

Ab nodded his head and offered Draco a hand, "then let's get you better so you can go home."

"Finally!" Said Draco, giving him his clean hand and letting the man haul him up. He wobbled a moment on his feet, his head throbbing at the quick change of position. Draco released his hand but Ab kept a tight grip on him.

"What did you say your name was again?" he asked, looking over Malfoy's features. Hermione held her breath.

"Septimus," replied Draco and he gave the man's hand a firm up and down motion.

"An old name indeed!" beamed Ab, who joyfully gave Draco a more enthusiastic handshake.

Hermione let out her breath. _Thank goodness_.

He turned to the other men, "I'll take them back boys, come find me when you've returned."

The men nodded their head and some of them waved goodbye while others didn't really pay attention to them before continuing on. Hermione quickly weighed the pros and cons of leaving with the stranger. But the pros were way too strong to consider it for long. Her stomach grumbled angrily, desperate for a good meal.

Ab started walking in the direction he came, making a motion for the two to follow.

"Septimus," he started. "Latin, I believe?"

"Meaning the seventh son," replied Draco, "hey, do you have anything for pain? I've got a splitting headache."

"I do not," replied Ab. "But my sister will, brilliant witch that she is."

"Were you surveilling the prairie?" interjected Hermione, lifting her head up to the man as they walked.

"It's not a common practice," he replied, "but recently there's been a handful of werewolf attacks in the area. When the village noticed the smoke we thought it prudent to investigate."

"Have werewolves attacked around here before?" asked Hermione.

"Not really," he replied, "but times are changing, it's best to stay alert," he said, giving her another smile and a wink.

Hermione liked him. He seemed to radiate a "Jolly-old Saint Nick" vibe that was becoming increasingly comforting.

"You both seem quite young," he said, looking them over as they walked, "shouldn't you be in school?"

"Well,-" started Hermione.

"We just graduated," interrupted Draco, "last year".

"Then a congratulation is in order," said Ab as he smiled at them. "Good time too. Rumor says Hogwarts isn't the same without Dumbledore..." Hermione's eyes shifted to Draco, but he kept his face impassive and stared ahead, giving nothing away. "And what houses do you hail from?"

"Gryffindor," Hermione piped up.

"And you Septimus?"

"Ravenclaw," grumbled Draco. He didn't need to give this man another reason to distrust him.

"Ah! A courageous and strong Gryffindor" he said opening a palm to Hermione, "together with the cleverness and wit of a Ravenclaw" he said, opening his other palm to Draco, "A very good fit."

"Is it now?" Draco sarcastically asked.

Ab looked down at him, raising his eyebrows, "I would know, my wife was in Gryffindor," he said.

"And you're the Ravenclaw?" said Hermione, a smile creeping on her face. It felt good to smile again. It felt normal.

"I am, Mademoiselle," he gave her his biggest smile yet. "Tell me Septimus, what was the hardest riddle the door to the Ravenclaw tower gave you? For me, it was-"

"Are we there yet?" Said Draco, cutting the man off and stopping. The two turned to him and he took his hand off his chest. The bleeding had increased and both the bloodied shirts he wore were drenched almost comically, like a bad Halloween costume.

"Oh my," said Ab. "Perhaps we'd better pick up the pace."

"How much longer?" Asked Hermione, eyes fixated on Draco's chest.

"We still have about twenty minutes I imagine," said Ab.

"Twenty minutes?" droned Draco. His energy was falling. He'd be a corpse before then.

Ab raised his wand, "I'll have my sister waiting for us."

He cast the Patronus charm. It took the form of a seagull before it soared away with his message.

They walked another five minutes before Draco had enough and collapsed. Rolling onto his back, he whined in pain.

"Ma-Septimus!" exclaimed Hermione as she knelt to his side.

"Ok," said Ab, holding out a finger. "Hold on, it's just over this hill. I'll go get help."

"Thank you," said Hermione as he trekked away from them.

"I'm not going to make it," whimpered Draco.

"Oh stop it, you'll be fine," she said. Sure he'd lost quite a bit of blood. And he definitely needed medical attention. But he was nowhere near as pale as he was when they'd apparated from the Weasley's.

She placed her hand back onto his and applied pressure.

"Why bother-"

"Deal with it," she said with an air of authority.

He kept quiet, looking up at her from the ground, his eyes searching hers. Was she acting out of guilt?

"I've got an idea," she said, looking up the hill.

She grabbed his other arm and pulled him into a seating position, "come on then, get up."

"What the bloody hell are you doing? I can't-"

Hermione lifted his arm and pushed her head through it, wrapping her other arm around his waist while pressing her side into his.

"Don't touch me," he spat, suddenly uncomfortable at their proximity.

"Together," she said, ignoring him and using all her strength to push them up to a stand.

"I said fuck off mudbl-"

"Draco Malfoy. You will not, and I mean will _not,"_ she said, stressing the last syllable, "use that term while I am starving, exhausted, and hauling your pathetic arse up this hill."

He looked over at her heated gaze. She was determined and stubborn and she had no problem making sure he knew it. For the second time that day he was speechless. His eyes wandered over her face before landing on her pursed lips, noting they were slightly puckered in his direction.

Catching himself, he forced his eyes back up to hers and sneered.

"Well let's get on with it then."

She wasted no time and strutted forward, slowly, but steadily helping him walk up the hill. His breathing became more labored and he let out a grunt or a whine every now and again. But if this little adventure of theirs would have taught her anything, it was how to harden that bleeding heart of hers. She knew his whines and cries and could now tell what was real, what was fake and what was somewhere in between. He was somewhere in between. She could push him a bit further. He was capable.

He applied more and more of his weight onto her as they neared the top, his strength quickly disappearing, the blood now tinting the top of Harry's jeans.

Finally, they came to a full stop as they reached the mound's peak, their chests rising and falling from the exertion. Draco had broken out into a heavy sweat along the way. Not that it bothered her. It wasn't as if he smelled...yet.

Down below was a quaint little town –more of a village really, with brick houses and lumber roofs.

"Hey!" Yelled Ab from below them.

Hermione looked down. He held his tunic above his knees as he ascended the slope. In front of him was a rather plump lady, around the same age, carrying a woven basket and scurrying up the hillside to them.

"Granger..."

She looked over to Draco and found him staring at her, his gaze bizarre and calculating. And for a brief second, his eyes flickered down and focused on her lips.

Then they rolled up into his head and his body slumped out of her grip as he passed out.

_Definitely not fake._


	20. Chapter 20

Draco stirred as laughter resonated down the hall. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a dark wooden room, illuminated by a crack from the open door. Splayed out on a bed, his head sunk deep into a feathery pillow. Yawning, he stretched his limbs, slowly sitting up.

Then it dawned on him. No restraints.

He pushed his feet to the ground, took a couple of steps to the door, and peered out the gap.

The hallway had many floating candles, slowly bobbing near the ceiling without ever getting too close to it. The wax leaked, falling but evaporating, never reaching the floor. Just like Hogwarts.

Laughter picked up again. Draco took a step out of the room but stopped himself as the hallway temperature rose goosebumps across his chest. Realizing he'd been stripped down to his boxers, he took a step back into the room, opening the door a little wider to have a better look at his surroundings.

He first noticed a wooden dresser with a large mirror attached to it. A couple of nightstands without décor, no windows, and finally, the bed he'd woken upon. Doing a double-take, he noted it had a large handstitched blanket draped over it. Walking closer, he scrunched his nose in disconcert as he looked at the poorly stitched red and blue colors with both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor emblems in the center.

_Repulsive._

On the bedpost, he saw his old clothes. He picked them up, draping his pants in the crook of his arm, as he spread open his shirt in the light. The tear had inexpertly been stitched with a thick black thread, clearly visible in the low lighting. It also held new buttons in the place of the missing ones. He scowled, looking closer; they were all different sizes and apparently, someone thought it was appropriate to add some brown ones into the mix.

He threw on his pants and filtered his arms through the sleeves of the shirt, fixing his collar as he made his way back to the mirror. He'd lost some muscle mass since he'd last seen himself and his cheeks were somewhat sunken. His black attire made his already pale complexion look ghost-like. A scowling face met his eyes as he buttoned his shirt, bottom up. He used to love this shirt. It fit him perfectly and used to show off his physical attributes rather nicely, often getting him compliments from female housemates back in the dorm.

He sighed, his fingers halfway done, looking at the monstrosity it had become. So much for that.

Taking a step closer to his reflection, he stopped buttoning as he noticed something, and pulled at the silk.

His injury had been healed.

He pulled it open a bit further, trying to get a better look.

There was a scar. Its outlines were jagged and its interior was pink, darkening towards the center.

The healer had done a good job. While he wasn't ready to hit the beach anytime soon, he was definitely grateful to finally have it mended.

Laughter rang out once more.

He finished buttoning his shirt and left the room, following its source.

"So then I said; that's got to be the bravest thing you've ever done!" spoke a woman he didn't recognize. Laughter erupted once more.

"Now what about you Jane, how did you and Septimus find each other?"

He came to a stop right before what seemed to be the entrance of a kitchen, and stepped back, propping his shoulders against the wall, listening in.

"Oh..." said Hermione.

Draco gazed at the wall across the hall, patiently waiting for her to divert the question.

There was a pause before she continued, "our relationship has always been...rather complicated."

"How so?" pressed the woman, making Hermione rather uncomfortable.

_He's a death eater. He's a pureblood supremacist. He's an asshole._

"We come from different worlds," she opted instead.

"We can understand that," stated Ab. "Her mother hated me! I had to buy that woman flowers every week for two years before she gave me her blessing."

"Who? Norma?" Asked Hermione.

"No, my mother," said the woman, and all three laughed until tears filled their eyes, gasping to catch their breath.

So, she kept up pretenses, thought Draco. She also hadn't redirected the conversation as he'd hoped, giving him a suspicious feeling they believed he and Granger were a couple. He silently made a face at the thought of it.

"Well how about some dessert then?" said the woman and the sound of a chair sliding and some bustling about could be heard. He was grateful she didn't push the subject.

Figuring it was as good a time as any, Draco made an entrance, leaning off the wall and taking a couple of steps into the room.

He zoned in on her. Her hair had been washed and tamed into a lazy ponytail. Her outfit had been cleaned and she smiled at the lady near the sink, cutting up some sort of pastry.

"Septimus!" Boomed Ab, and he made a gesture to the empty chair beside him.

It was tempting. The table had food and a plate was prepared, he assumed for him.

But other things needed addressing first.

Hermione turned and saw him standing near the entrance. Her smile widened and she beamed at him, hopping off of her chair and taking a couple of steps in his direction.

"We need to talk," he said, cutting the mood.

She felt a little crestfallen at his tone, though she couldn't pinpoint why. She stopped a few feet from him.

"They've made supper for us," she said.

"Now," he responded in a no-nonsense kind of manner, but not as harshly as he intended it to be.

"Alright," she agreed, losing her smile completely. "If you'd both excuse us," she said as she turned to their hosts before making her way down the hallway.

"Of course," said Ab confused, but he gave them an encouraging motion nonetheless.

Draco offered the older adults a little bow of his head and turned to follow her back to the room.

He closed the door behind him, putting them in complete darkness.

"Lumos," muttered Hermione, and the tip of her wand gave out a glowing white light, illuminating them both.

"You might want to add a muffliato charm. Wouldn't want us being overheard."

Hermione did as he requested, making the room soundproof.

"Now then, what was so pressing as to-"

"Are they members of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No, they're not," she said, taken aback, "how do you know the Order's proper name?"

"Oh come on, everybody knows."

"I wasn't aware it was common knowledge."

"We know more than you think we do."

Hermione stayed quiet a moment, processing that information.

"What do you want Malfoy?"

"I want to know what you're up too," he said, walking over to sit on the bed.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean I have no intention of playing your little game of _house_ while we have evening tea with whoever the fuck these people are."

" _These_ people gave us food and shelter without having the slightest idea of who _we_ are. Not to mention the fact that they wasted an entire afternoon trying to keep _you_ alive."

"Wasted," he repeated, offended by her choice of word.

She sighed, "I just meant that they're nice people and they took a lot of their time and resources to save you. You shouldn't be taking that for granted."

"You're a sentimental fool, Granger. Nothing comes for free. The longer we stay, the bigger the return when they come collecting the favor."

She shot him a sad look at that moment, taking a pause to consider her words; "I actually find it quite heartbreaking how you seem to believe that everyone and anyone around you is greedy, opportunistic and incapable of selflessness." He sneered at her speech and brought his hands together, "You're _so_ fucking gullible. I can't believe I need to be the one to tell you this, but you need to start guarding your back before someone throws a curse at it."

"Someone like you?" She responded darkly.

He raised his eyebrow and watched her a moment, then tilted his head as he hunched his shoulders, "someone like me."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed in frustration, "is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No," he said, carefully watching her and deciding to get to the point, "are you taking me to the Order or not?"

"I am," she said hesitantly, wondering where he was going with this.

"Then why are we here?" He asked, pointing a finger to the ground, "from what I gather, we've been here all day. You've had every opportunity to instruct someone to come pick up my unconscious carcass and yet," he said, waving a hand to himself, 'here I am."

"How could I have-"

"Don't play dumb Granger, the Patronus charm. You might not be able to do it, but he can," he said, pointing his thumb to the door, "now explain."

Hermione had almost forgotten how astute Draco really was. Of course, she'd thought of it, but that meant she'd have to blow their cover. And despite the warmth of Ab and his family, she couldn't bring herself to involve them. They hadn't spoken of the war at all since she arrived, and they seemed to live outside if it. Nevertheless, she couldn't use the Patronus even if she'd informed them of the circumstances.

"It's none of your concern," she said, walking to the door. It wasn't something she wanted to explain to him, nor did she need to.

"Of course it bloody well is," he said, standing up.

"No it's not," she said, making a grab for the doorknob and turning it open.

He took a couple of quick steps and slammed his hand against the door, effectively shutting it with a bang.

"Where's the cavalry?" he asked, dead serious and pushing himself into her personal space.

She took out her wand and pointed it at him threateningly.

"Stop trying to intimidate me."

"Where are they?" He said, pressing closer.

She wouldn't tell him. She really, really shouldn't.

"They're on their way," she bluffed, eyes shifting between his. That should hold him off. Just until she could find a way to contact someone.

He watched her a moment as she clenched and unclenched her other hand, waiting for him to back off.

"You're lying," he realized.

"I am not."

He took her wrist and forced it down to the side of her body as he pivoted in front of her and took a step forward; making her back hit the wood of the door behind her.

The light from her wand cast shadows over their faces, now glowing up from between them.

"I can feel your anxiety," he spoke quietly; "you're practically oozing it."

His breath fanned over her cheeks, and she suddenly felt very aware of their proximity. She brought her gaze up to his. She knew it was meant to be threatening, but, inhaling sharply, his demeanor had changed. He was calm and intense. He loomed over her, and what was meant to be intimidating suddenly became electric. She felt as if the room had gotten hotter, and her stomach squeezed, heat swelling from down below. Shifting her eyes between his, she realized with overwhelming mortification that she was excited.

His grip loosened on her wrist. Very loud alarm bells went off inside her head.

Scrunching her nose, she tipped her wand upwards, the point of it grazing his skin and sent him a little zap.

"Ow!" he said letting go of her hand completely, "what the hell?"

"Get some mouthwash," she said, turning her nose up and taking a few steps to the other side of the room "your breath reeks," she added, leaning against the dresser and crossing her legs, taking some slow, calming breaths.

Even in the dim light, she could see a pink hue crawl up the side of his ears as he glared at her.

"What are you hiding Granger?" he asked again, keeping his voice low.

She sighed in frustration; she was aroused and confused and this conversation was going nowhere.

She really needed to get out of this room.

"I don't know who to reach," she lost her patience and admitted. Then realized how incredible it felt to finally say it out loud.

"What are you on about?" He said, taking a seat back on the bed.

"I don't know who to contact or even where they are if I knew," she clarified.

"You mean...you don't know where headquarters to the Order is?"

"Not anymore," she said rather gloomily.

It was true. Furthermore, she had no idea what had happened to the Weasley's or professor Lupin. She still had no idea where Harry and Ron were. She couldn't contact Hogwarts or anyone at the Ministry. She couldn't let Malfoy leave and yet they had nowhere to go. For the first time in a very long time, she had no idea what to do next. And that frightened her very much.

"Oh my God," he said, crossing his arms and rubbing a hand over his eyes. "So, what? You were just going to keep me captive and wait it out. Hoping that you'd _happen_ to cross someone you know?"

"...I don't have a plan right now."

He rubbed both hands over his face, unbelieving what he was hearing. _Well,_ _that makes two of us_.

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling on the ends, as he bent his head and groaned. He just needed to get his hands on a wand. Any wand. Then he'd wait until she was distracted long enough to wipe her memory and high tail it out of there.

He brought his hands together, in a pensive motion, losing himself in deep thought. This was actually better, he rationalized. It meant he wasn't on his way to some creepy, run-down building to be subjugated to hours of questioning and possibly torment. He wouldn't be locked away in a cell and subdued to mockery and misery. He wouldn't need to deal with Mad-Eye Moody or any other crackpot working for them.

A weight lifted off his chest, one he hadn't realized was there in the first place.

He wouldn't become a prisoner of war after all. He let out a small sigh of relief.

So that just left him with _her_. Looking back up, he noticed Hermione's watchful gaze. She stayed silent, calmly waiting for his response.

Looks like he was stuck playing house after all.

But if he was going to play the game, they needed some rules.

"What have I missed since I've been out?" he asked.

She had not expected him to readily accept it. Rather, she'd braced for laughter, ridicule, taunting insults...and yet, he threw her for a loop.

"Well... you've been out since yesterday."

"Yesterday," he repeated, surprised.

"Ab carried you down into the house, where I met his wife and then his sister got to work pretty much as soon as you were put on the bed. She's knowledgeable and efficient. She used to be a healer at St-Mungo's actually. The draught's and potions she used; I've never heard of them before. She had essence of Dittany but she mixed it with-"

"Skip," he disrupted.

"Well that's it. You've been out since."

"And what about you?"

"Not much. I've read a bit, showered, eaten – something you need to do by the way," she added, giving him a pointed look.

He pursed his lips in annoyance as his stomach gave a growl as if to prove her point.

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing much, though they seemed rather interested in you actually-"

_Why would they-_

"Granger," he said, suddenly alarmed and quickly piecing the puzzle together. He pulled up his sleeve, showing her his forearm, panic swelling within him, "the woman who healed me. Did she see it? Did she see the Dark Mark?" He asked, showing her the skull with the snake through it.

"She might have," said Hermione, realizing how that could be a problem.

"Shit! What the hell is wrong with you?!" he snapped, standing up and pushing his sleeve back down, "why didn't you hide it-"

"I wasn't thinking about _that_! I was preoccupied-"

"With what?!" he said, arms flaring out in anger.

"Assisting her! Preventing you from dying!" she screamed back, "you're welcome by the way!"

"Oh get off your high horse-"

"Excuse me?!"

There came a knock at the door.

"Is everything alright in there?"

They froze, staring at each other, eyes wide in fear.

"Yes!" Squeaked Hermione in a higher octave than normal, "in fact, I was just about to take a shower!"

"Alright," said Ab, "Septimus your plate is getting cold, would you like us to heat it up for you?"

"I'd appreciate it," replied Draco, now staring at the door.

"Alright, see you soon," he said, and they listened in silence as heavy footsteps retreated down the hall.

Hermione wasted no time and opened a drawer from the cabinet, pulling out a towel.

"How did he hear us-" started Draco.

"I would assume the spell broke," she huffed, heading for the door.

"Obviously," he hissed.

She turned the knob and opened the door, but stilled. Slowly, she closed it again, turning back to him.

"When I opened the door," she said, understanding what had happened.

"Holy shit," he said, "how much did they hear?"

"I don't know," she said opening the door again.

"Where are you going?" he hissed, struggling to control his volume.

"To take a shower-"

"What about-"

"I need to think," she said, stepping into the hall.

He tried to follow.

"Wait, waitwaitwaitwai-"

She clapped the door in his face.


	21. Chapter 21

That goddam woman!

He ripped the door open with every intention of following her. But as he stepped into the hall she'd already slammed another door shut a few rooms down; locking it with a distinctive click.

Letting out a growl of frustration, his balled fist slammed into the doorframe beside him, the wood giving a muffled _thud_ at the contact. What the hell was he supposed to do? Wait for her to calm from her little bitch fit and start all over?

His stomach clenched; painfully this time. He should probably eat.

But then he'd need to deal with the old man. He sighed through his nose. He didn't want to deal with the questioning or the sour looks or any other interaction. Pretending to be pleasant wasn't his strong suit. He didn't have the patience for it. Nor had he ever needed to.

His hand slid down the frame until he tucked it comfortably under his arm. Then again – he could use the opportunity to escape. What if he told the old man he'd been kidnapped? Would they take his word for it? It wasn't like it was a lie. He'd been practically dragged across forests and fields with a massive injury – pretty much the most traumatizing physical experience he'd ever endured. His eyes flashed down the hall to the glowing light of the kitchen. Could he convince them? Could he convince them to sneak him away –without Granger noticing?

On second thought, he mused as he turned back into the room, Granger didn't seem concerned about leaving him alone with the couple. Meaning she would've done something to stop him. Probably by doing something absurd; he stopped walking and looked down at the bed's wooden frame; like tie him to the bedpost, he thought, memory going back to how he'd woken up without restraints earlier. Quirking an eyebrow, he brought his arm up, slapping his hand over the post's rounded stump. She did seem to have a fixation for tying him up. And she apparently had a knack for it too. A small smirk pulled on his lips. Maybe the reason she was so good at it was that she'd had practice...elsewhere. He snorted, picturing how cringe-worthy she'd be in the bedroom; tying him up, fumbling on top of him, awkwardly struggling to pull down his pants.

The smirk disappeared from his face and his hand slid off the post. Lips turning down, he ground his teeth as he stared at the bed in front of him.

_As if I'd let her._

Eyebrows furrowed at the thought, he took a couple of steps and sat on the ugly cover, hunched over with his elbows supported on his knees. Considering what had happened, he shouldn't be making light of it at all, let alone trying to picture it. His eyes flickered to the door where he'd cornered her. At first, he'd done it to harass her. It was something he was used to. Something he was comfortable with. Something he was good at. But then she looked up at him, and he just...froze. Her lips had parted and her eyes glossed over, dragging themselves heavily up to his. He hadn't torn his gaze away.

_Blast it_.

He shook his head, stopping his thoughts in their tracks and stood up from the bed.

He needed food.

* * *

He turned the corner into the kitchen finding Ab sitting back comfortably at the small table reading a newspaper.

"Anything interesting?" Asked Draco, feigning curiosity and projecting an air of politeness, as he took a seat beside him. The plate in front of him had been warmed and the steam smelled delightfully exquisite. He dug in.

"Same old, same old," responded Ab, giving his thumb a lick before turning a new page.

Draco didn't answer, packing food into his cheeks, savoring every glorious flavor that presented itself to him.

"My," mumbled Ab, giving him a sideways glance. "You two sure seem to have an appetite."

Draco paused at the comment, imagining Granger stuffing her face as fast as she could. He frowned, playing with his fork a moment; he knew better than that. Mindful of his manners, he continued eating, this time slower.

"I hope the room is to your liking. The blanket was hand-stitched by my wife way back from when we first started seeing each other."

He held back an eye roll.

"We thought it would make you feel more at home. The gold and silver colors really 'pop' in the light."

"It caught my eye," he answered, barely keeping his annoyance in check.

Ab turned another page letting Draco eat in silence. The sound of the shower pitter-pattered from down the hall.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"It's not paradise," he answered quickly.

Aballach gave a low hum, turning his attention back to his newspaper as Draco ate.

"You know, she seems like a very bright witch for her age."

Draco's fork paused midway to his mouth. "So I've been told," he responded darkly, before bitterly taking another bite.

"I must admit, it's not my place. But you two seem...standoffish to one another. Did you guys have a bad go at something?"

"A lot of somethings."

"Ah," said Ab. "Whatever it was, I hope, for your sake, it was insignificant. Jane has not only a beautiful mind but a beautiful heart. And she clearly cares about you very much."

An eyebrow rose. "Come again?"

Ab gave him a weird look in response. But Draco didn't care about pretenses at the moment.

"Jane looked after you as you slumbered. She stayed at your bedside and read books. Sometimes she even read to you aloud.

"...did she now?"

"Are you really so surprised?"

"No," he said after a moment. He knew better. Ab would never know that it wasn't kindness that she exhibited towards him in particular, but rather the innate workings of her incorrigible moral compass. That dam thing never failed to point north – she would have done it for anybody. It was just her personality. "I guess I'm not."

It was her insatiable pity, the bleeding Gryffindor heart that beat the tiniest creature – even for house elves, so he heard. And apparently death eaters too.

Ab gave a thoughtful nod of his head, and returned to his tabloid, reading article after article as Draco filled his stomach.

He was halfway through his plate before the woman, Norma, entered the room. Draco eyed her well since he hadn't gotten a good look at her beforehand.

She was a big lady, sporting a dense, tightly curled fro that bounced on her ears as she walked up to the table.

"Where's Jane gone too?"

God, he just wanted five minutes without thinking about her.

"Shower," he mumbled.

"I hope the bed was warm enough," she followed, clearly uninterested in Granger's whereabouts. "I'm sure it will be tonight," she added, her tongue sticking out through her teeth and winking at her husband, who smirked in return over the edge of his paper.

Draco brought a hand to his forehead in an awkward attempt to hide his face while stuffing a mouthful down his throat to avoid the comment.

"Oh, come now," teased Norma, seeing his expression, her plump abdomen bouncing in time with her laugh. "Don't be shy."

She pulled out the chair beside him and sat.

"We don't mind, we don't mind," she rushed, with a wave of her hand and a wide smile on her face. "I'll make sure to wash the sheets not once," she counted on her fingers, "not twice, but thrice tomorrow."

His fork clanged against his plate as he brought his other hand to rub at his face.

This was _not_ happening to him.

* * *

Hermione angrily tied her hair into a bun and turned on the shower. What was wrong with her? She thought, getting undressed.

The spell should have held. She should have realized it had broken in the first place. She should have sensed it. But there hadn't been any give, no magical tug or notification whatsoever to alert her the spell no longer held. If she hadn't witnessed the obvious disruption herself, she would have thought the spell to still be holding – she never ended it after all. So what went wrong?

Stepping into the spray, she let the hot water roll over her, enjoying the heat as it dulled her senses.

On top of that, she also hadn't glamoured the dark mark yesterday amid the panic. It was a simple spell that would have done the trick, lasting the couple of hours needed as they worked on him. Squeezing her eyes shut she huffed in frustration. She was so preoccupied, she just didn't think of it. She brought her hands up, resting them on her temples for a moment, before letting them slide to the back of her neck, losing herself deeper in thought. It wasn't like her at all.

On the other hand, Ab and Norma seemed rather ignorant of it, she noted as she began scrubbing the sweat away, a lovely smell of peach gliding across her skin. They didn't look at them in fear or mistrust, nor had they asked her about it. Perhaps they thought it was simply an irregular tattoo. And they'd been nothing but hospitable and gracious hosts. Nothing at all to give away they suspected Draco to be a death eater. They were just really nice people. Her fondness of them kept growing by the hour. It was very possible she and Malfoy were jumping to conclusions.

Then again, they did ask about him quite a bit, she thought, rinsing off the suds. Where he was from, who his family was, what he was thinking of doing after graduation... all questions they asked her as well, mind you... and then they almost touched on their "relationship."

Dodged that one rather well. Still. Staying put wasn't the best idea. Malfoy hadn't been awake for a whole fifteen minutes and they were already at each other's throats. Between arousing suspicion and simply overstaying their welcome, it was best to leave as soon as possible. She was missing some potion ingredients; they could use some new sleeping gear, hygiene products, and food. It seemed like the logical next step. Turning off the shower and wrapping the towel around her – she decided they would head out first thing tomorrow.

* * *

Draco was able to finish his meal quietly. Norma was, by far, the chattiest chatterbox that ever chattered. Ab had carefully folded his paper and set it down on the table beside him to give her his full attention, smiling and laughing at her daily stories and "adventures." Her days didn't sound like anything exciting to him. She did things like collect herbs and gossip with other women. Typical country folk stuff: useless jargon. His eyes drifted over to Ab. He didn't see what was so intriguing about Norma's day, he must really be in love with her – he had to be, to be able to endure the ramblings of the mundane life she described to him so enthusiastically.

After waiting an eternity for a pause in her babble, he interrupted her as politely as he could, and thanked them for the meal, insisting he needed to go wash up. Thankfully, they let him leave without a fuss.

The shower sounds had been turned off as he made his way down the hall. He imagined Granger in front of a bathroom mirror, desperately trying to detangle the mess of sopping wet hair the shower had created. Quickly grabbing a towel from the bedroom, he stalked to the door she'd previously entered, bent on kicking her out so he could finally get rid of what he assumed to be a week's worth of grime.

He didn't have a chance to knock as the door flew open wide before him.

There she was; the bane of his existence, standing there in nothing but a white, damp, cloth, one hand on the door handle, the other holding a wad of her old clothes – wand pointing out from the bundle. Her mane was mostly dry – hair falling out of the bun she'd attempted, with the occasional wet strand that hung slick against her neck.

His eyes wandered down from her startled expression to the humid drops sticking to her collar bone, and his gaze followed a single bead that fell, quickly going over the swell of her breast before dipping out of his view behind the tightly wound towel she'd secured around her torso.

"Holy shit Granger," he said, boldly staring at her chest. "I almost forgot you had tits."

She couldn't stop the red from coloring the surface of her skin – but she did push the heap of clothes she held into his face, effectively pushing his head back and forcing him to take a couple of steps into the wall behind him.

"Don't be crass, Malfoy," she hissed. "I thought you were raised _better_."

She pushed past him; scurrying back to the bedroom.

Stunned, he watched her flee, half in amusement, half in disbelief. Her bottom bounced with the last hurried steps before she shut the door with a bang.

How had he not noticed that? She didn't exactly wear loose clothing. But she never flaunted her femininity either; unlike most of the Slytherin women. Hell, even his mother occasionally showed cleavage. It showed confidence and power – a sort man didn't possess.

He forced his eye forward and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and grabbing at the back of his shirt, smoothly pulling it off.

Granger had an impressive figure. She wasn't the notable D-sized cup Pansy had, but the orbs she carried captured his attention well enough. And that ass had enough pep to bounce a sickle off of it...and then some.

The thought of that alone brought a rush of heat to his _equipment_ , and he hurriedly finished undressing and leaped in the shower – pushing the dial to cold and turning it on full blast as fast as he could.

_No._

He would absolutely _not_ picture, imagine, fantasize or jerk off to that mudblood, Granger.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione threw her clothes onto the dresser and angrily tugged at her elastic. She didn't know why she was so bothered by his comment, but here she was, jerking with too much force and having a couple of hairs pulled out as her bushy mane fell apart around her.

Her eye caught the movement as it reflected back at her from the mirror. She took a couple of steps forward until her palms rested on the edge of the wood of the dresser, analyzing the absurd angles at which some of her hair extended.

Her irises moved lower to the swell of her breasts; comfortably tucked into her towel. She'd never really given much thought to her breast size over the years. Ron had never complained. Harry never brought it up (at least not in front of her), and they really never had "boy talk" around her, so it didn't often cross her mind.

But there was the occasional moment, usually in the Gryffindor common room, when surrounding classmates thought they were having a private conversation as she read a book near the fireplace.

Women would talk about their sex adventures, giddily whispering to each other about the naughty 'activities' men had done with them. Males were less private about such matters, often laughing out loud and making obscene gestures, occasionally demonstrating a woman's assets with their hands to one another.

Hermione had always assumed they over-exaggerated their vulgar depictions. Most women she knew didn't have busts the size of watermelons.

Her eyes snapped back to her face. Malfoy was just being a prick. Victor Krum, an international celebrity, was able to notice her among the swarm of Beauxbaton beauties during the Triwizard Cup. Surely, her femininity wasn't as invisible as he made it out to be.

She grabbed her wand and quickly made a gesture with it, closing the room's door with a rather aggressive thud and locking it. "Lumos," she whispered, turning back to the mirror and setting down her wand, making sure the light didn't blind her reflection.

She ran her fingers over the towel's trim, feeling hesitant. With a decided nod, she took a breath and unlatched the towel, grabbing an end in each hand and letting it fall around her waist, giving herself a real good look. She hadn't changed very much.

A little older, a little more mature, a couple of scrapes here and there. Her ear would forever be deformed but there was nothing she could do about that. Overall she looked fine. She rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself. This was absurd. Of course she was pretty. She didn't need someone else's reassurance.

Drying off, she put her old clothes back on and unlocked the door, stepping out to find their hosts.

Her breasts were perfect just the way they were. Malfoy could go fuck himself.

* * *

When he was sure he'd taken off the top grimy layer of his skin, Draco walked back to the bedroom, just as Hermione finished putting a book away into her small beaded bag. She'd changed into someone's overly large pajamas that hung loosely around her in a rather unflattering way, her hair bouncing as she moved about.

Their eyes met a moment, as he stepped into the room, but she didn't say anything, putting the pouch into the dresser and closing the drawer with a little too much vigor to go unnoticed. Draco leisurely propped himself against the door, leaning on his hands and pushing it closed in the process, the tip of her wand lighting the room from its spot on the bed.

He'd already redressed and left the towel hanging on the shower curtain to dry. Hermione flatly ignored him, pulling out an elastic and throwing her head forward, gathering her hair and struggling to put it back up into a messy bun, attempting to look preoccupied.

"Now what?" He asked, with the slightest edge in his tone. He noted the cold shoulder and her silence irritated him.

"Now," she hummed. "We sleep."

"I meant where do we go from here?"

Walking over to the bed, she pulled back the covers.

"You get the floor," she replied smoothly, before nodding to the bedpost. "Ab lent you his nightwear if you want it."

"Granger," he persisted as she bent forward to grab a pillow, his eyes half glued on the overly large garment.

"Tomorrow we leave to gather supplies."

"What then?"

She paused a moment, her hands gently fluffing the cotton, her gaze finally making its way up to his, "I'll let you know".

His damp hair had been pushed back, and like hers, didn't quite sit well without products or spellwork. She made a mental note of it in case he ever decided to get snarky about hers.

His eyes left hers and looked to the floor somewhere ahead of him, grudgingly accepting her answer and mulling it over.

She picked her wand up from the bed and cast a complicated locking spell on the cabinet containing her bag.

"Don't bother," she said, her chin giving a jab in its direction.

His eyebrow gave an irked twitch, "right," he responded, loudly exhaling from his nostrils as he watched her get under the covers from his place at the door.

"Is this the part where you practice your bondage skills on me?"

"No actually, it isn't," she said, raising her wand to him. He pushed off the door, slightly panicked and angry she was once again going to subject him physical confinement.

The door clicked behind him.

His head whipped around to look at the knob, his eyes flashing to hers before looking back at it a second time. He brought his hand up and tested the handle. She'd locked it.

"Goodnight Malfoy," she said, turning around and attenuating the tip of her wand, plunging them into complete darkness.

He blindly stared at nothing for a moment, listening to her stir on the bed. Deciding to ignore her, he focused on his breathing. She didn't restrain him. God, that was a relief. He was totally fed up with it. A sense of calm washed over him as he relaxed, easing his shoulders back into the door, letting it take most of his weight. He realized for once he wasn't hungry or cold or sore. In this moment, he felt...almost at peace and strangely detached.

Hermione stopped moving and the room became completely quiet. There were no crickets singing and no wind bustling, no leaves blowing and no birds chirping. No war, no danger, no exhaustion. Just silence throughout the house. Absolute bliss.

Fatigue crept into the fog of his mind, but he kept it at bay. He wanted to cherish this blessed moment forever.

"Urgh!" He heard from across the room, followed by a second of rustling. He jumped in surprise as his leg was hit with a cushion.

"Conscience get the best of you?" he teased, bending down and picking it up, a true smile forming on his lips. She was so predictable.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she grumbled from her spot.

He turned the pillow over in his hands, squeezing it a couple of times. It was warm and smelt of her, with a mixed tinge of peach. Suddenly, the bed was very inviting.

Determined, he walked over, his eyes now adjusted to the dim glow peeping from the cracks of the door.

"Move over."

"Malfoy what are you doing? I said you get the floor!"

He pressed his hands down on the bed, not quite leaning over her, "Are you seriously going to make me sleep on the floor with nothing but a bloody pillow? Where did _you_ sleep last night? Because I distinctly remember waking up on the bed."

"You were knocked out."

"You slept with me didn't you."

"I'd never sleep with you."

He grinned and made a couple of disapproving clicks with his tongue, "don't avoid the subject."

She didn't stop eyes from rolling, "you were on top of the blankets."

"And I'll _stay_ on top of the blankets," he quickly responded, getting eager for her to agree. The cushioned mattress under his fingers was too welcoming to pass up.

She was silent a moment.

"Promise," he pressed.

She gave another loud sigh, but she shuffled over, pushing her pillow with her. "I swear Malfoy, you try _anything_ , and I'll turn you back into a ferret and lock you in a cage."

She couldn't see his smug smirk as he triumphantly slapped his pillow onto the head of the bed, comfortably slipping on beside her, hands intertwining behind his head.

"You know, I think you may be getting too accustomed to treating me like an animal," he said, giving a lazy smirk. "What with the leashes and threats, ropes, and bindings. Commands..."

"Well that wouldn't be right would it?" His smile dropped at her change in demeanor and sudden somber tone, "treating another human like _every. Other. Animal_?" she added darkly, echoing the words he'd spat at her from their discussion in the cave.

As she said it, Hermione realized why he hadn't seen her as a woman until then. Why he hadn't seen her as a sexual being with sexual bits that could do sexual things. Essentially; despite some of his previous lewd comments – she was still, after all they've been through, less than a sexual being to him. A _mudblood_. An animal.

He clipped his jaw shut. They were heading into dangerous territory. The reoccurring topic that sparked her fire and was sure to get him kicked out of bed. Fatigue was finally clawing past the barriers he'd put up and frankly, he didn't have the energy to defend his position tonight.

"I wasn't going to kill you...in the field," he said evenly, factually and without emotion, intent on distracting her thought process. He felt her head turn in his direction. "I just needed to wipe your memory. Then I could return home safely, without the constant terror of wondering if a follower had learned that I wanted out. Or worse, my father. But then you shot me that hex...and things got out of hand."

"You're more afraid of your father than the Dark Lord?" she asked, turning to face him completely and tucking an elbow under her head. She couldn't see him but the heat radiating off of him gave her a good idea of how close he was.

His frown deepened, "that's not what I said."

"It was implied-"

"I could probably bribe most of the men into silence for a short while if they found out; the lot of them are pretty poor. Then they'd report me once a hefty bounty was to be made for my whereabouts and the hounds would be released in my pursuit."

She considered his words seriously. "But from what I understand, death eaters are mostly from elite wizarding society, bribing them with money-"

"Deatheaters are not the same as regular followers. They're usually common folk who've felt wronged in one way or another by the government or a governing body, and they join purely out of spite, and in hopes of climbing the ranks for better social status," he paused, considering what he was telling her. "Other times its just people looking to make a quick sum. They usually become snatchers."

"I was right..." Whispered Hermione, thoughts running back to the maskless brown pants man she'd fought on the cliff.

"Figured it out ahead of time did you?"

"It wasn't exactly difficult to piece together," she said, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Fair enough," he answered, shrugging his shoulders as he did, the corner of his mouth upturned in a ghost of a grin.

"And what if your father found out?" she said, eyes finally adjusting as the light through the door cracks shone dimly, and she could now make out the outline of his silhouette.

"I'm sure you can figure that out too."

"But surely your father wouldn't-"

"I'm not exactly sure what he'd do. He's desperate and afraid and he's beside himself trying to return to the Dark lord's good graces-"

"The Dark Lord doesn't have good graces-" she abruptly interrupted, jutting her head closer to his, trying to make her point.

"Nevertheless, father wants back in," he said, sounding distant, ignoring the breath he felt butterfly across his face. "Nothing shows loyalty like turning in your only son."

She debated staying quiet, leaving it where it ought to be left. They were doing so well.

"I'm sure he wouldn't-"

"You don't know shit, Granger," he snapped, turning on his side to mirror her position, aggressively leaning in closer to her. "Don't make assumptions on things you don't understand. It's not Hogwarts anymore where you break the rules, you get detention and you redeem yourself by winning house points."

They were nose to nose now.

"How many house points does daddy get for turning you in?"

He fell silent, feeling both outraged and humiliated by her jab.

"Sorry," she said, trying to calm herself, "that was too far."

"Just shut up," he hissed.

"But... he's your father," she pressed. Might as well push. They'd made it this far.

He was soundless a moment. He might've even stopped breathing. But then he spoke, quietly, seethingly, and almost rehearsed, "my father is, first and foremost, a servant of the Dark Lord."

She waited for him to continue, not trusting herself to speak. But when he didn't, they fell into an uncomfortable silence.

It was hard to imagine living a life where you didn't know if your parents loved you enough to protect you. Hermione was beginning to understand Draco's actions and personality more than she cared to admit.

"You're not going to bother even trying to escape, are you," she concluded.

"No...I'm not," he said, eyebrows knitting together, "so long as you're capable of opening that big mouth of yours, it's in my best interest to stick around and keep you from doing so."

She believed him, and found a sense of comfort in that.

"Well, now I know your plan," she said almost teasingly, hand reaching out and giving his forearm a nudge.

"Well you don't have one, so I guess we're on even playing fields," he said, no hint of amusement in his voice.

" I guess we'll have to figure it out together," she murmured, feeling his breath fan across her cheeks.

"So it would seem," he hummed.

They fell silent again, their fatigue ripping away at the growing tension between them.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she finally breathed. Tomorrow would be a new day.

"Goodnight, Granger," he muttered in return.

She turned away from him, getting comfy on her side and bringing her knees up in a semi-fetal position, not bothering to double-check the wand she'd tucked under her pillowcase. Draco didn't move, falling asleep where he lay.

They both slept peacefully that night.


	23. Chapter 23

"Sleepyheads, good morning," said Ab, softly knocking on their door, then cautiously continued. "It's almost noon."

Hermione woke with a jerk, eyes still closed and momentarily disorientated. "K," was her breathy, barely audible response. She'd been so blissfully comfy. Her pillow was warm and soft and it just smelled _so_ good. It gently bobbed up and down and she further nuzzled her nose into it.

"Granger," drawled Draco, voice husked with fatigue. "You burrow your nose any deeper into my artery; I might just pass out."

She yanked her head back, rapidly blinking herself awake as the cushion grumbled beneath her. Reaching a hand out behind her, she swiftly searched for the real pillow that held her wand. After a couple of blind pats to the mattress, she found it nestled where she'd left it; inside the pillowcase. Sighing in relief, she let herself go limp.

Fingering the cushion until her pinky grasped the jagged tip of her wand, she languidly pulled it out from its not so secret hiding spot and gripped it loosely in her hand. Lifting it up, she muttered a soft "Lumos"; illuminating the room and making her squint at the sudden brightness.

"Some warning Granger!" Hissed Draco, turning his head away from the blinding light.

"Sorry," she replied, slowly sitting up and dimming the glow. Eyes adjusted, she snuck a glance in his direction.

At some point in the night, Malfoy had rolled onto his back, and looking down to where she slept, she gathered she eventually cuddled up to him. She felt her hand gripping the sheets tighten ever so slightly. She took a couple of controlled, quiet breaths to halt the creeping of her flush as her brain registered and caught up with the morning's series of developments. What a mortifying and awkward position to wake up to. Nestled into his Adam's apple as if they were dating…

Her eyes darted away, choosing instead to look at the dresser across the room. He hadn't recoiled. He hadn't pushed her away and told her she was filthy or unworthy. He hadn't made it scandalous and sexual. He'd just… poked fun at her.

And that was… new.

Her gaze shifted to the mirror on the dresser, where his fully clothed reflection lay on the bed beside her.

True to his word, Draco had stayed on top of the blankets.

She studied him as he brought his head back to face the ceiling and threw the crook of his arm over his eyes, not quite yet ready to face the world. Her eyes subtly slipped from the mirror to the man lying beside her. His shirt was disheveled, wrinkled, and untucked. It'd climbed up almost to his naval, nearly exposing it.

"I'm going to go get dressed," she decided, tearing her eyes from him and sluggishly slipping off the bed.

"You do that," he groaned.

Good, thought Hermione. They weren't going to acknowledge their awkward start. That was totally fine with her.

* * *

She went to the bathroom to get changed and made her way to the kitchen, where Ab and another woman sat, sipping coffee and quietly talking.

"Good morning Edna, nice to see you again," she smiled.

Both dropped what they were saying to welcome her, "and you too Jane," said Edna.

The woman's lips were curled into a tight smile as Hermione took a seat beside her, crossing her arms and leaning them on the table.

"Is everything ok?" she asked.

"Actually I was wondering how you were holding up," responded the elder lady, exchanging a glance with her brother and leaning over in her chair to gently take Hermione's arm in her wrinkled palm, giving it a gentle rub.

"Me? Well I'm fine," said Hermione, noting the sudden shift in mood.

"Well you see child," she started, gently grabbing Hermione's sleeve and carefully rolling it up her arm, "I noticed your scar here the other day, while we worked on your friend," she said, exposing Hermione's hideous _MUDBLOOD_ engraving, "and I couldn't help but notice you hadn't gotten rid of it," she added, looking back up at her as she slowly moved her hand so it hovered above the words. "Does it hold significance to you?"

Feeling uneasy and self-conscious, Hermione didn't respond right away, her eyes flickering between the two. She debated her answer, partially fearing she might say too much and partially fearing being judged if she didn't give a good enough response. She hesitantly pulled her arm back and tugged down the sleeve, earning a deep frown from the woman beside her.

"I haven't found a way to heal it," she softly admitted. "But I've tried."

"I thought so," responded Edna. "It seems to hold a rather dark property. I'd go so far as to say it's cursed."

Hermione figured as much.

And it was made obvious when Edna had worked on Malfoy, that she was well versed in magical maladies and injuries. It'd been fascinating to watch as Edna had swept her wand over him with complicated circles and incantations that slowed down his bleeding.

If she was being honest it was even more intriguing when she was asked to assist in making a salve for him. Edna had been great with instructions, concise, to the point, and relatively calm throughout the ordeal. They'd applied it and she watched, completely engrossed in the moment as his open chest wound had closed before her eyes, the last of the potion they'd brewed sinking into his flesh and disappearing as if it'd never been there in the first place. Edna was a very skilled witch. Perhaps she had the knowledge to help her get rid of the monstrosity that'd been carved into her.

"Cursed to stay on forever?" she asked, eyebrows rising as a ray of hope suddenly swelled within her.

"That was perhaps its intention," the elder woman replied. "But if you're interested – I've brewed something up that might be able to help."

Edna reached inside her bright and colorful robes and pulled out a small, clear jar, filled with a brown creamy substance.

"Hand-picked the ingredients myself," she added with a nod, "no miscalculations, excessively filled in case you need it for a different occasion," she said, watching Hermione's eyes carefully.

"How do you mean?" she asked, tearing her eyes away to stare at the goo, silently analyzing the concoction.

"You never know," said Edna with a slight shrug, eyes going back to Hermione's forearm and letting her voice trail off. Then she made a mixing motion with the vial, slushing the barely moving compound in its flask. "It's a mixture of my own concoction. You don't live around these parts without picking up a thing or two."

"Oh wow," breathed Hermione, eyes gleaming with interest. "What's it made of?" she asked, graciously accepting it from Edna's outstretched hand.

"Curious one, isn't she?" Edna spoke to her brother as an honest smile spread to her dark, chapped lips.

"Agreed!" said Ab. "If I didn't know any better I'd say perhaps you've been sorted into the wrong house! Ravenclaw would have done you well."

Hermione gave a small smile.

"No," she responded. "Gryffindor was best for me."

"Could have been both," said Edna, lifting her hands as if to balance one decision to the other.

"Thank you," said Hermione earnestly, eagerly unscrewing the cap and setting it on the table.

She'd been starting to lose hope in getting the dreaded thing off. She'd tried virtually every spell she knew when she'd been on the run with Harry and Ron. She tried potions and herbs and lotions. She'd completely exhausted herself out of ideas on how to rid herself of it. She'd even retried the spells that had already failed – just in case. Despite all her efforts, the damn thing just got angry at her, mockingly flaming before returning to its disfigured, discolored mark.

"Good morning," entered Draco as he languidly turned the corner into the room. He'd fixed his rumpled clothes and had attempted to tame his hair, which had unsuccessfully fallen back into his eyes. He seemed to be in an awfully good mood.

"Good morning young man. How are you feeling?" asked Edna.

He looked to the visitor's large face and beady eyes.

"Well, thank you," he responded out of politeness and casually leaned against the archway that divided the kitchen from the hall, crossing his arms and giving a civil upturn of his mouth as he did.

"Septimus," boasted Ab. "This is my sister, Edna," he said making a grand gesture to the woman, "she's the healer who took care of your wound the other day," he said, bringing his hand back to pat his chest, right where Draco's wound had been.

"Some splinch you had there…Septimus was it?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Draco's smile faltered.

"You wouldn't have happened to land on a piece of wood during your crash, did you? I meant to ask you about the splinters I found buried deep within your tissue."

He glanced over to Hermione, who stiffly held an open jar of brown gunk, her gaze quickly flickering over to him.

"Might have," he answered, keeping his composure. "By the way, you do marvelous work," he added, easily slipping on a charming smile, "I gather I'll be able to play Quidditch again by the end of the quarter."

"Do you play dear boy?" Said Ab, excitedly leaning forward, his large abdomen pressing against the table.

"One of my year's top seekers," he bragged, giving him a one hundred-watt smile.

"That's it," interjected Edna with a small smile and a dismissive wave of her hand. "If we're going to start talking sports, I have better things to do," she said, a small smile to her lips and eyes rolling as she pushed her chair back and stood up.

Hermione stood to join her, "thank you so much again Edna, I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate the kind gesture."

"Well give it a go then," said the woman from behind her chair, making encouraging motions and nodding to the vial. "Let's see just how good I am."

"How do I apply it?" Asked Hermione, who'd returned to examining the substance as she brought her finger up to drift over its soft and gooey surface.

"Enough to cover it," replied Edna, her hands twirling in vague motions.

Draco pushed off the wall and took a step forward, "what's that?" He asked as they watched Hermione dipped her finger into the sludge.

"It's cream I made for her scar," replied Edna and he watched in sudden apprehension as Hermione further pulled her shirt up to her elbow. "I can't imagine she enjoys walking around with it. The herbs have reversive properties that are easily absorbed by the skin. Shouldn't take long at all to see if it'll make a difference."

His eyes darted to the jar and he took a hurried step towards it, his diplomatic mask slipping away with his sudden alarm.

"Should do wonders against _all_ magically induced brands," the woman added pointedly as she watched him move, eyes traveling to the mark concealed under Draco's shirt as he came to an abrupt stop beside the younger woman, eyes widening and his gaze snapping to Edna's. Hermione looked up as well, paused in her movement, a saturated finger suspended over her scarred skin.

_She knew._

His hand shot out faster than Hermione could react, and he grabbed her outstretched arm, fingers curling around the faded letters of her mark. The jerk caused the open jar to fly out of her hand and clatter to the ground, its contents oozing out onto the wooden floor.

Hermione whipped her head around to him so fast it was a wonder her neck didn't snap.

"Bloody hell!" She spat at him, eyes widened in shock and outrage. What the hell was he doing? They needed to de-escalate the situation, not make things worse.

Draco's chest rose and fell as his eyes flickered between Hermione's, as not one, but now _two_ red flags continued to wave quickly and aggressively at the back of his mind.

"I think it's time we left," he said somewhat controlled and evenly, quickly re-schooling his expression, his grip tightening around Hermione's arm as his gaze shifted to the older adults in the room, who'd been stunned to silence by the commotion.

Eyes weary of Draco's form, Edna slowly bent down to where the vial had rolled near her foot, and gently lifted the jar, trying to salvage what little potion remained.

"Do you think I mean to poison her, child?" She said, eyebrows knitting together in disbelief.

Hermione roughly pulled her arm from Draco's grip, "of course not!"

She turned back to Draco, giving him a dirty look, "stop it," she hissed, "you're overreacting."

She lifted her chin and walked over to Edna, swiping a cloth off the sink as she passed and joined her on the floor to help clean up the spill.

"I'm so, so sorry about this."

"Don't you remember what I said?" Draco snapped at her.

"Whatever it was, right now it doesn't matter" she fumed, teeth clenching as she lifted her eyes and bore holes into his skull, then she wiped her coated finger over the edge of the jar, letting the substance return to its home and proceeded to vigorously wipe up the floor with her cloth.

"Nothing comes for free," he steadily reminded her.

The woman knew he was a deatheater, which meant there was no telling what was actually put into the potion, or what its real purpose was. That notion alone should be enough to excuse his actions. The situation really fell into his favor.

"Abellach, would you mind giving us a moment?" said Edna, still crouched, pensively swishing the remaining thin line of contents in the jar. The three looked at her, air thickening with the tension.

Ab looked between the three, a finger nervously drumming the table.

"If that's what is needed," he finally said, standing up and respectfully pushing in his chair. "I'll just be outside."

When the footsteps could no longer be heard down the hallway, Edna spoke up.

"My brother took a risk taking you in," she said, rising from her spot on the ground and pulling herself up to her full height. "As did I when I knowingly healed a young man baring the sign of the dark mark."

Hermione stopped scrubbing, as whatever remaining air in the room was sucked away into an invisible vacuum.

"These are different times. But it's always prudent to note that inviting strangers into one's home could be asking for big trouble."

Hermione stiffened and hesitantly stood, taking a couple of steps back to the sink, where she gently placed the sullied rag into the basin and lightly leaned against it, her hand inconspicuously slipping into her back pocket, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her wand.

"But as I contemplated leaving your ghostly, fading complexion I noticed this poor girl's arm," she pointed to Hermione, " and the horrendous engraving it possessed," she looked back at Draco, "I thought to myself; was it he, the one who gave this to her?"

"I didn't give it to her," Draco tensely spit out.

"And even if he didn't, why would a muggleborn work so tirelessly to save a deatheater? Surely she knows who you are. Perhaps she needed him to break the curse she held," she said, taking a step towards him, hands whisking away with her theory. Hermione's grip tensed. "But as I worked with her, she showed genuine concern for your wellbeing."

Hermione leaned further back against the sink and let go of her wand, still snug in her pocket, and pensively brought her hands up to rest on the counter behind her, avoiding Draco's glance as she stared at the floor, intently listening to Edna's deduction, "so I finished the job. And I haven't told them," she added, nodding her head in the direction Ab had left.

Hermione let out a breath. Edna stood there between them, eyes briefly flickering between the young adults.

"Well?" she sharply asked when neither said anything.

"We've had…the most unbelievable of weeks," started Hermione. "And we are so, so very grateful for all your help. We mean you and your family no harm…I really like Ab and Nora, they're kind and thoughtful and-"

"With all due respect child, you're not the one I'm concerned with," she stated, eyes darting to Draco

"No need to fret on my account," spat Draco, a defensive sneer appearing on his lips, "we're leaving."

Edna slowly and deliberately reached over the table, ignoring Draco's stiffened posture, and grabbed the cap to the container, gently screwing it back on the jar before placing it back onto the wood, her hands coming up to grip the chair beside her.

"If I wanted you dead, I would have left you to die. I have no hidden agenda," she said, eyebrow raising and opening her hands to him. "The potion was made because I suspect something deeper is happening here," she said, finger shifting between the two," and I've got a feeling you're not willing to share what it is. But from what I've seen and heard, the both of you could use it," she finished, accent as heavy as her brothers.

Draco's gaze momentarily flickered back to Hermione.

"As I said," he replied, eyes making their way back to Edna. "We'll be heading out."

Enda turned to Hermione, "is he holding you captive, child?"

Draco exhaled a loud breath, gaining Edna's attention, and leaned over the chair in front of him, elbows resting on its wooden back as his hands clasped together, "try again."

Edna's eyebrow's shot up in surprise.

"Well then," she said, turning to Hermione and looking rather impressed, "for some reason that isn't as big as a surprise as I think it should be."

Hermione gave her a sheepish smile.

"Were you really leaving today?" Edna asked her.

"We were," she confirmed.

Enda nodded, "well alrighty then."

Draco stiffened as she made her way to him, and lifted a finger to his face, "I hope you remember what was done for you in this place, and the kindness that was shown to you," she said glaring at him, then proudly looked ahead and brushed passed him, "no strings attached," she added as she rounded the corner out of view.

He huffed a breath as she went.

Hermione pushed herself off the counter. He dodged her gaze as he looked off to the side and felt rather than saw as she walked past him too.

"And where are you going?" he asked, rather annoyed with it all.

"To gather my things," she muttered. "We're leaving."

"Fine by me," he grumbled.

* * *

Hermione stepped outside. The sun shone bright, the rays gently heating her cheeks and forehead, a nice change from the cold weather they'd been having. The small house didn't have much of a front yard, the door was only steps to the main road, where the townspeople bustled about the muddy street.

Some had magical vending carts full of colorful vegetables, pulled by the off-putting black thestrals, invisible to all but those who've seen death. Their snouts heaved out heavy vapor in the morning air. It was quite a bizarre contrast. Other carts simply floated on the spot, the farmers politely conversing with shoppers.

The atmosphere was relaxed and welcoming, with no one in a hurry. It smelled of straw and hay and it reminded her of the farmer's market back in her hometown. It was only missing the overgrown pumpkins that littered the streets. The townsfolk seemed happy and they adorned sincere smiles as they conversed with one another.

Nora was energetically chatting to a nearby merchant, excitedly waving her arms as she went. She noticed Hermione and gave her a little wave, excusing herself from the man and quickly crossing the road to reach her.

"Jane! Have you ever tried locally grown squash? I was thinking of making some tonight for supper – do you think Septimus would like it? I need an expert opinion before I start buying."

Hermione's heart dropped. Nora was so warm and kind. She didn't want to leave her, Ab, or this quaint little village.

"Actually Nora," said Hermione, trying to sound as grateful as she could. "Septimus and I need to head home."

"What? Already?" Nora stopped in front of her, brows furrowed. "But you've only just got here!"

Hermione gave her a small smile, "we really don't want to impose any longer…"

"Not at all! Come, come," she said, grabbing Hermione's arm and tugging her back to the door, solidly ignoring Hermione's weak protests, "I'll make you some hot breakfast-"

Just then, Malfoy opened the arched wooden door and strode out of the house.

"Ready to leave then Jane?" he said, pushing past the two women to step out into the road without giving them a second look.

"Yes," she sighed, seeing Ab's large figure approach the open door to step out and tenderly rest his arm around Nora's shoulders.

When he noticed Hermione didn't immediately follow, Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for her, choosing to watch the street vendors on the other side of the cobblestone beneath his feet. It would be just like her to prolong goodbyes.

"But you haven't had breakfast yet," Nora protested.

"We…" Hermione dragged her eyes to Draco, who's head turned back to give her a sharp look before returning his gaze to the street.

"It was just so lovely to meet you both," she said, her chest tightening as she watched Nora's crestfallen expression look up in confusion to her husband. "But I'd love to come back and visit sometime," she said glancing at Ab, "if you'd have me."

A spark of joy seemed to return to Ab's eyes, as if the tension in the kitchen never happened, "of course! Anytime! We're just sorry to see you leave so soon…it wasn't Edna, was it? She has a tendency to frighten the birds away."

"Don't worry," interjected Draco, who'd stepped up behind Hermione and reached his hand out around her to Ab, "It'd take a ghastly amount to frighten this owl into flight," he said inclining his head towards her, and she fought the sudden urge to stick her tongue out to him. "Thanks. For everything," he added, sincerely maintaining eye contact with the man.

Ab took Draco's hand and gave it a firm shake, "any time," he smiled.

"Take care," said Hermione, taking a step back and making Draco sidestep as she bumped into him. He hadn't realized how close he'd gotten.

"Stay safe," she added as he recovered and fell into step beside her as she continued to back away.

"Why don't you just give them a _hug_ ," he murmured sarcastically, paying no more attention to the adults who reciprocated her farewell.

"Bye!" she called out, ignoring him and giving the couple a sad wave with her hand.

"Granger," he whispered harshly.

"Yes, yes, I know," she snapped back and shot him a glare from beneath her overgrown bangs. She pulled her wand from her back pocket and grabbed the crook of his elbow with the other. She closed her eyes and pictured her destination clear in her mind. Then, with a magical tug at her naval, they vanished from the street.

* * *

They landed in an alley, both surprisingly solid in balance as they did.

"Any longer and I'm pretty sure that old crow was going to come out and expose us," he snarled.

"Don't be ridiculous," she huffed, fingers still around his arm. "If she wanted to expose us she would've done it in front of her brother," she added, grip tugging and tightening around his bicep to convey her point.

He frowned and dipped his head down, getting level with her face, "don't fool yourself. In about five minutes she'll have told them everything."

It was hard to ignore his proximity when the warmth of his breath hit her nose.

"Possibly," she admitted, averting her eyes and unconsciously slipping her lip between her teeth and giving it a quick chew before releasing it. She looked back up to him in time to see his gaze fly back up to hers, "but we don't know that for sure."

"I really do," he said, arching an eyebrow and giving a small tilt of his head for emphasis.

She sighed, knowing he was probably right and her gaze dropped to her hand in the crook of his arm. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as she realized at some point he'd bent his elbow and his forearm had been brought up and lightly rested against his chest in a very aristocratic like posture. He registered her gaze and followed her line of sight until he found her distraction and quickly glanced away, sharply dropping his arm back to his side as he did.

"Habit," he muttered, pale ears suddenly burning.

She nodded and couldn't help a small smile as it tugged on her lips.

"Watch it Malfoy, someone might see you acting like a gentleman. To a _muggle-born_ ," she teased. "What's that word you called Ron once? _Blood-traitor_?"

She held a dimpled grin, knowing full well she'd hit a nerve. But it felt good to bring up her friends and a real smile bloomed.

His eyes narrowed and unconsciously darted around the alleyway.

"Wow," she laughed.

He scowled as his gaze returned to hers, "think you're bloody hilarious do you?"

"I can be," she said, stepping back and giving him a mock bow. She looked quite comical in her exaggerated stance. It was disarming.

He suppressed his amusement as he rolled his eyes; his mouth ending up in a lopsided smirk.

"Alright," she said popping back up with a bounce and turned on her heel toward the street, "let's get some supplies."

* * *

As he approached the sidewalk, his steps slowed until he came to a stop, his gaze abruptly glued to the road in front of him. Noticing his missing footfall, Hermione paused a couple of steps ahead and turned to him with a raised eyebrow, watching as his brows furrowed at the passing traffic.

His fist made some rapid open and closing motions and his eyes darted around nervously. She tried to follow his shifting line of sight, through the traffic, to the shops on either side of the street, to the crowds of people bustling about the morning rush but found nothing out of sorts. She looked over at him once more, noting his head slightly recoiling as a convertible zoomed past them.

"Those are cars," she finally stated.

"I bloody well know what a car is," he spat, eyes shifting between the following vehicles as they passed.

She took a couple of steps back to him, glancing around in case she missed something, "well what's the problem?"

He took a couple more moments watching the cars rush by on the busy street.

"Nothing," he said quietly before he turned to her. "Where are we exactly?"

"London."

" _Muggle_ London," he corrected.

" _Exactly_ ," she said, once again turning on her heel and resuming her path down the sidewalk.

"Why _exactly_ are we in muggle London?" he said, hesitantly moving his feet until he picked up the pace, his long stride easily catching up with her.

"Supplies," she said over her shoulder to him.

"We couldn't get the supplies in wizarding London?" he frowned, dodging a crowd of pedestrians that Hermione weaved through with ease.

"It's much safer here," she said, stopping at an intersection and pressing a button on a metal post.

Draco watched a man in a hurry, hands filled with plastic bags from the other side of the road take off in a dash through the traffic, nearly getting hit by a vehicle, and car horns suddenly filled the air around them. The man safely made it to their side of the road and kept jogging into the direction they'd come from.

"Doubtful," muttered Draco as he watched the man disappear in the sea of people down the street.

The pedestrian light flashed and Hermione reached up and give his elbow a short tug,

"Come on," she said, getting his attention and stepping out into the stilled street. He followed close behind her, eyes shifting between the stalled cars as he passed them, one by one. They made it to the other side without event and he evened out the shallowed breaths he'd forced himself to take.

"It should be just passed this shop," he heard from in front of him as she craned her neck as they rounded the corner.

"There!"

Large glowing letters adorned the storefront and Draco hesitated before taking the opened door Hermione had briefly held and entered.

_Pharmacy_

Whatever that was.

He took a quick glance around the inside before following her in and letting his hand slip off the door behind him, it closed with a solid clack and a ring of a bell.

Hermione had already disappeared down an aisle and he wasn't quite sure where she'd gone. He looked to where an elderly lady was hunched over a high counter, lazily reading a newspaper behind bright pink reading glasses. He looked up at the fluorescent lights above him and squinted. He never understood the muggle's need for such brightness.

Candlelight illuminated and brought warmth to its surroundings by enriching colors and casting beautiful shadows, adding depth to its environment. This…he thought, as he looked back down and over the rows of metal shelves before him, was bleak and cold.

He slowly walked into an aisle, closely examining the metal racks that held rows and rows of canned "food". It bore symmetrical holes that had packages hanging from them and it'd obviously been painted at some point because some of it'd been chipped off in random places, giving it an obviously worn and shoddy look.

He wrinkled his nose. Most shops in the wizarding world had an abundance of luscious woods to hold their merchandise. Shop owners were proud people who took good care of their appearances. He gently passed two fingers over the uneven metal, the tips picking up pockets of dust as they went.

His upper lip curled as he wiped it off with this thumb. Even the shops in Knockturn alley had better sanitation, he thought, watching the dust float to the ground. Well, most of them anyway.

He turned back to the shelf and picked up a can of "soup" in front of him, turning it until he found the listed ingredients. Some things he recognized, others he didn't. He noted the word _preservatives_ and frowned.

How were muggles so incompetent as to not be able to acquire fresh ingredients? If a lowly wizarding community like Ab's could do it, then surely they could too. He placed the can back in its spot and leisurely continued his path down the aisle, not bothering to hide his disgust as he went.

Hermione grabbed a toothbrush from its spot on the wall and threw it in her basket that swung from the crook of her arm. _Hmm. Maybe I should take two._

She didn't dwell on it and grabbed another for Draco. She moved around quickly and coordinated from one aisle to the next, the crate quickly filling up with peroxide, polysporin, other miscellaneous first aid items, tampons, a hairbrush, and various snacks as she went. She found Draco squinting at a bottle of shampoo and she plucked it out of his hand as she brushed past him, nonchalantly adding it to her pile and moving to grab a couple of bars of soap behind him.

He noted her overflowing basket, and picked up another item from the shelf, ignoring her whirlwind and feigning interest in the conditioner he now held.

"Buying the store than are we?"

"Just the necessities," she said, walking back to him and ripping the bottle out of his hands a second time, only to put it back on the shelf, "and I've finished, so let's go."

She spun away from him and headed towards the elderly lady at the front counter, strands of her hair falling out of her messy bun as she did. It was bunched and already knotted, and incredibly unattractive.

"Hello," said Hermione when she reached the woman behind the counter "Anything interesting in the paper?"

"Same old, same old," she drawled as she began to swipe Hermione's items across the scanner.

"You can add this," said Draco as he none too gently dropped the bottle of conditioner he'd retrieved onto the counter.

"I said essentials only," she emphasized, yanking it out of the pile and putting it off to the side beside her, out of his reach.

She balked as Draco's hand boldly stretched in front of her, his chest brushing her shoulder as he reclaimed it and returned it to the pile once more.

"Trust me," he said, giving her a look, "it is."

"Ha, ha, very funny," she said, rolling her eyes and reaching for it again.

"Just imagine how _unrecognizable_ you'll be when you've managed to tame the snake pit on your head," he grinned, white teeth peeking through his smile.

She glared up at him, mildly insulted, and quickly thought about throwing a similar observation back in his face. But he'd given her an idea.

"You make a good point actually. Watch the items I'll be right back."

His smile dropped and his hands came up in exasperation as he watched her trot away.

"That'll be fifty-three, eighty-four," said the woman behind the counter as she readjusted her falling glasses, looking at him expectantly.

His thumb jotted over his shoulder in the direction Hermione had left, "she's getting it."

"Sure," she said unimpressed, giving him a once over.

"Here you go!" said Hermione as she bounced her way back to the counter. Draco turned to her as she plopped a box onto the counter.

"What's that?"

"You'll see."

"Just tell me," he said, crossing his arms as she retrieved a plastic card to pay.

"Have you never seen hair dye before, hun?" Drawled the old lady as she added the scanned item to the total, her eyes honing in on his platinum blond locks.

"He hasn't actually," defended Hermione before Draco could throw out an insult. "That's his natural hair color."

"Right," answered the old woman after a beat, eyebrow arching in disbelief.

"Yes it's pretty unique and very _recognizable_ ," she over articulated as she leaned her elbow on the counter and dropped her head on her first, looking up at him with a smug and piercing, emphasizing gaze.

"Sixty-six, thirty-three," said the lady as the total blinked at them from the machine. Hermione gave her card and put in her password, and patiently waited until she got the green light to go. The machine gave a funny beep.

"It's been declined."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she straightened up, "what?"

"De-clined," repeated the old woman.

Draco frowned, "what does that mean?"

"It means my funds have run out," muttered Hermione, fingers lightly drumming on the counter. Head bowed, she started going through the stack, setting aside the less needed items.

"Let's try these please," she said, setting a smaller amount in front of the cashier.

The woman audibly sighed, but quickly got to work, rescanning the items one by one.

When Hermione swiped again, the card declined a second time.

"Shocker," sighed the old lady once more through her wrinkled pursed lips. Draco's brow rose at the woman's audacity.

"Sorry, no need to be rude," said Hermione, cheeks flushing as she dwindled the pile once more until there were only tampons, the hair dye, a bar of soap, and a couple of non-perishable snacks remaining.

The woman silently scanned the items, occasionally glancing up to Hermione through her overly applied mascara. This time, the card went through.

"Do you want a bag for that?" She asked Hermione, both hands lazily leaning on the counter, silently daring her to say yes.

"Patricia is it?" Interrupted Draco, his grey's narrowed and malicious as he read her name off the woman's lopsided nametag. "Must awfully dull for you, to need to work day in and day out in this dust-filled hellhole."

"Malfoy don't-"

He leaned a little over the counter, ignoring's Hermione's exasperated tone, and imposed his height, almost smirking as the woman bent back to salvage her personal space.

"No ring on your finger, no pride in the clothes you wear," he said gesturing to her knitted sweater with the occasional string piece threading out. "And your posture is atrocious. I'm willing to bet you're a lonely woman, with either a dead or no husband, with at least two cats at home."

"Malfoy!"

"And even _they_ don't love you."

"Oh my God," breathed Hermione, hands coming up to cover her face.

The old woman's mouth dropped open, and she shook her head in disbelief. She quickly returned to her senses, her mouth snapping shut and she gave him the ugliest of glares, before grabbing Hermione's now-empty basket and forcefully shoving the unpurchased items into it, to return them to their rightful places within the aisles, leaving them alone and walking away with a huff.

"I'm so, so sorry!" Hermione called after the woman, her hands sliding down from her eyes to cover her nose. But the woman had already disappeared.

"What is the matter with you?!" she snapped, backhanding his ribs with enough force to wipe the smirk off his face. "You don't just attack people like that; you don't know what she's going through in her personal life."

"What's the matter with _you_?" He retorted, bringing a hand up to rub to his now tingling rib. "You've never let me talk to you like that. Why's this woman so special?"

"You don't know her. Maybe her husband really did die and she's having trouble coping with it. Being mean to someone never improves anything-"

"Fixed her attitude pretty damn fast-"

"No, she was obviously overwhelmed. She'll probably-"

"Who cares?" He said, reaching over to grab a bag from behind the counter and began adding in the items.

"I do! It's like you don't know how to be an adult-"

"Letting her walk all over you? Letting yourself be humiliated? That's your definition of being an adult?" He said, handing her the half-empty bag.

"No," she said, raising her voice and roughly taking it from his outstretched hand, eyes boring into his. "Recognizing that it's not all about _you,_ is being an adult."

He looked down his nose to her, his posture rigid and tense. She returned the glare evenly. Until she noticed a blinking red light behind his ear in the upper corner of the room.

"Come on," she said, frowning at the camera. "We're making a scene."

She pushed past him and marched to the door. He huffed in disbelief and turned on the ball of his foot not giving her a chance to get ahead and quickly followed her out.

The door swung closed behind them with a clack and the ring of the bell.


	24. Chapter 24

They walked back in the direction from which they came and he found himself quickly adapted to the light system that directed the muggle transportation. Though walking _directly_ in front of a car still put him off.

Some drivers gave him odd looks as he peered at them through their large automobile windows. One man even revved his engine at them. He flicked his eyes to Hermione beside him. She paid the car no heed, continuing her brisk steps to the other side of the street. He looked around again, hands finding his pockets as he glanced into another vehicle between steps. The driver was distracted, animatedly talking to nobody from behind the driver's seat; another woman seemed to be in a screaming match with herself as he passed by her silver minivan; the next car had a man leering at him from behind a pair of dangling dice; and another stuffed his face with an oversized veggie wrap, its contents spilling over into his lap as he went.

His upper lip pulled up into a sneer and he focused back to the approaching sidewalk.

_Merlin, they're animals._

Hermione's pace sped up, her tangled hair bouncing with every step as she zigzagged in front of him. It was obvious she was unfazed by the people, the sounds, or the lights; completely oblivious to the ruckus that was muggle London.

Cars blared their horns as some remaining stragglers jaywalked onto the street behind them, and he was forced to raise his voice and shout from behind her.

"Where to Granger?"

"I can't very well tell you everything," she spat back as they took their first steps onto the sidewalk.

His eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. He'd let her preach her sermon back in the store – but this was enough. He didn't feel like putting up with her little attitude anymore.

He stopped walking, grabbing her elbow and pulled; making her almost lose her balance mid-stride as he swung her around to face him, his grip strong enough to steady her as he did.

"You said we were going to figure this out _together_. Drop the cheekiness. "

Exhaling through her nose, she shot him a dirty look.

Mirroring her glare, he let her go and crossed his arms, piercing his gaze into hers.

Following his lead she crossed her arms too, plastic bag crumpling against her shirt as she did, but diverted her gaze and looked to the rolling traffic beside them, considering her answer.

She _had_ said that they'd figure the plan out together. But thinking back it probably hadn't been the best suggestion. He had a quick temper, and a nasty habit of saying what came to mind, and overall still held a historical and stereotypical dislike for her.

" _Holy shit Granger, I almost forgot you had tits."_

Out of all the things that could come to mind, _that's_ what came up first. Not his sexual innuendos or his constant need to remind her of her muggle-born blood status, but his incapacity to see her as a person. Her jaw shifted to the side as the flashback reminded her of how his eyes had widened in genuine shock as he'd stared at her towel; like he really wasn't expecting a woman to be underneath the fabric. Her frown deepened at the memory.

_Jerk._

It was like he had the uncanny ability to pick someone apart and just _know_ how to set them off. Didn't seem to have any remorse about it either. He truly appeared taken aback when she'd chastised his behavior back in the pharmacy. As if _she'd_ been acting like the crazy one.

How was she supposed to strategize with someone like that?

Glancing back up to him, she watched his frown pinch as he waited for her response.

In some ways, she thought, he made her think of Ron. Would Ron have reacted the same way to the cashier in the pharmacy? No. Would he have reacted the same way about seeing her in a towel? Definitely not. Ron and Harry were perfect gentlemen. She knew that because being on the run and camping with two men meant they'd occasionally have awkward run-ins. Her two friends had seen her in a bra more than once. But both Ron and Malfoy could be considered insensitive, proud, and irritable by nature and in that way…they were similar.

She could only imagine 's reaction finding out her son had belittled someone's little old granny out of vindictiveness. He'd most likely receive a nasty tongue lashing. Maybe even a slap if she was mad enough. To Hermione, was the epitome of an empathetic and courteous person (most days), and it showed that she strived for the same in her children.

Hermione focused on Malfoy, whose eyebrow practically twitched in impatience, as she deliberated a response.

Sighing, she recognized Malfoy didn't have the same upbringing as Ron or herself. In fact, he hadn't even had the same upbringing as Harry, which hadn't been the greatest, and even Harry grew up to be a decent person. Malfoy's values and morals were certainly different. One encounter too many with Malfoy senior made it bluntly obvious that condescending behavior was normal, encouraged, and possibly even glorified.

It explained a lot.

Looking away once more, she visibly deflated, loosening her arms and dropping her shoulders, finally replying.

"Yes, I know I did."

He looked at her expectantly, cocking an eyebrow, "well?"

Her gaze returned to his, noting the hair that fell over his brows, gleaming in the morning light.

She frowned, "we need to hide that hair of yours."

"That's your ingenious plan? Camouflage? Is that what that box was for?" He asked, pointing to the bag. "If you think I'm about to let you insert some preservative-filled, muggle trash-"

" _This_ ," she exhaled, arms flailing in his general direction, "is why I didn't want to tell you-"

"Well I would've bloody found out eventually," he hissed, eyes suddenly narrowing. "Or were you thinking of _making_ me do it?"

" _No_ ," she said, drawing out the 'o', and twirling around to resume her stride, quickly tiptoeing around a fire hydrant all while keeping her head held high. "I would've paralyzed you and done it myself."

 _Son of a-_ he snarled and pursued her.

"Why you vile, conniving, filthy little-"

Hermione made a sudden one-eighty and whipped back around. The motion stopping him dead in his tracks with her arm bent and raised, wand drawn to his chest level and pointed at his face.

"Don't you say it," she warned, calm and steady. "Don't you dare."

He looked down his nose to her as she struggled to keep her breathing even; suddenly thinking she was wrong about the breasts. Mudblood was _by far_ his best insult.

A crowd of pedestrians streamed around them on the sidewalk, a few people giving them funny looks as they passed.

Both their chests silently heaved as she stepped closer to him, almost menacingly, so zoned in she didn't notice the top of her foot accidentally stepping on the tip of his shoe. She stretched her arm higher and stopped the tip of her wand just before it touched the adam's apple she'd earlier woken up to.

Eyes flickering between hers, he faintly dropped his head, challenging her warning as he pressed his neck into the vine wood.

Her head gave a bristled tilt, but she stood firm, fixedly adding pressure to the top of his foot.

He glanced down, the crushing of his big toe dancing on the edge of pain, momentarily distracting him from their standoff.

When he'd had enough, he huffed, twisting his toes out from under hers and looking back up to her, finally decided on the appropriate word to end on.

"Bitch."

She let out a heavy breath through her nose and quickly inhaled another. She waited. Mudblood bitch, filthy mudblood bitch, maybe even filthy, vile, repulsive mudblood bitch. Whatever follow-up he planned, she braced for it.

But he didn't continue.

And after a beat, she gave him a soft nod, dropping her arm a little.

"I'll work with that."

Tension partly dissipated, his eyes shifted between her once more. "You have no right-"

"Draco, can we jus-"

"I told you not to call me that."

Sighing loudly, her eyes fluttered closed in frustration, unaware that in doing so she loosened her grip, accidentally letting the tip of her wand fall between her fingers onto his chest. He flinched, taking a step back from her and quickly glancing down, immediately losing his bravado.

"What'd you do?" he panicked, hands racing over his torso, assessing the damage.

"Nothing," she drawled, rolling her eyes and pocketing her wand away.

He'd just stepped into the thing not ten seconds ago. Whatever size his tank of courage was, it was now clearly empty.

His eyes shot up and glared at her, eyebrows furrowing in distrust. But he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides.

She sighed again.

"No, honestly," she reassured, holding her hands up and hushing her tone.

When it was obvious he still didn't believe her, she boldly took a step forward into his personal space as before and looked up at him in what she hoped to be an open expression.

"Really. I didn't."

He frowned in response but didn't say anything.

Crossing her arms, she brought a hand up to massage her temples.

She needed to create a common goal. Something they both needed and could work together that held the least possible amount of conflict.

"Look, we're still short some supplies. I have a few wizarding coins left but it's not much. After that, we'll need to figure something out."

Pulling her hand from her eyes, she looked up at him, daring to crack a lopsided smile.

"Any chance you gabbed a pouch full of gallons from the Malfoy reserve?"

His frown dissipated at her expression, and one of the corners of his mouth turned up, "it certainly wasn't the first thing I reached for when I was called to the witch hunt."

She tilted her head towards him, almost playfully, her mood lifting with his cooperation. "Was it the second thing you reached for?"

He let out an amused huff, "no."

Pressing her lips together, her smile stretched as she nodded, "right. Well, it was worth a shot."

He hummed in response, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

Her eyes flickered to them, before darting away without missing a beat.

"Look," she tried again, "I wasn't kidding before. We need to start by changing your hair color. Not many wizards have platinum blond hair. Nor muggles for that matter. You can be recognized a whole street away. If we want to stay out of sight, we need to keep a low profile. So _you_ ," she emphasized, bringing her hand up and softly placing a finger to his chest. To her surprise, he let her. Feeling more confident in her action, she lifted her finger once more and gently brought it back down to give him a little tap, finishing her sentence, "need to blend in."

His eyes darted down to where her finger rested on his chest. A well-shaped eyebrow elevated and his gaze lifted back to hers.

She let her hand drop, not pushing her fragile luck.

"How about a hat then?" He offered, not making remark of it.

"No. That's insufficient."

He frowned and raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "It's not happening Granger."

"Well, I'm open to other suggestions if you have some. Do you know any hair colour changing spells? Or perhaps an appearance changing potion that doesn't take three months to brew?"

"Why would I know that? There's nothing wrong with this," he boasted, throwing his head back and giving his hair a shake.

She held back her smile, giving him a look as any trace of residual anger dissipated. It wasn't even close to the immaculate state in which his hair usually held, and it ended up looking rather comical instead of the debonair magnetism she was sure he expected to pull off.

"Besides, the hat can work," he added.

"It's too risky, there's the issue of the hat falling off-"

"So we'll charm it to stay on."

"Your hair can still be seen. We don't want to risk a strand falling out just as…oh I don't know; a bad guy looks our way."

He broke into a real smile, his eyebrow arching with it.

"Bad guy? Really?" he said, uncrossing his arms and letting his hands easily rest on his hips. "That's what you call us? Like a villain in a storybook?"

She smiled back at him, quickly smacking a hand to his naval. "No, that's not what we call them."

His lip turned up in a charming sort of way, and his gaze held hers a moment before it shifted to meet those of a few random strangers as they brushed past.

"…is it permanent?"

"No."

She followed his gaze as he glanced back to the passing cars.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all, I promise. My mom did it about once every three months."

His eyebrows knitted. "What on earth would compel her to do that?"

She shrugged. "Solid, non-greying colour represents youth and beauty I suppose. Lots of muggles do it. Some even do it for fun."

He crinkled his nose, eyes returning to hers. "Really."

"Really, really," she said, nodding her head and rolling her eyes. She could've been schooling a toddler. "It's not that different from the wizarding world."

"Opposite actually."

"No, not at all," she said matter-of-factly, readjusting her grip on the plastic bag and turning on her heel, continuing her walk down the street.

He followed her.

"Prove me wrong, Granger," he started as they walked. "Sagacity and knowledgeability are valued in wizarding society."

Her eyebrows shot up at his vocabulary.

"They're associated with old people with grey hair and long beards. It's admired. Just look at the famous witch and wizard cards from the chocolate frogs. Merlin, Alberiv Grunnion, Armande Dippet, Artemisia Lefkin. It's all old people. And kids get excited about them because the wizarding community highly values the experience of the aged," he stated rather pompously, and when she looked back at him he looked every inch like the prideful peacock she remembered from school.

Stopping, she turned to him completely, eyebrow rising as she put her hands on her hips, not bothering to squash her smile.

"Draco, your mom dies her hair."

Either by the persisted use of his name or by her audacity to call out his mother, his smugness instantly vanished, eyes growing wide and eyebrows beginning to knit together as if she'd slapped him square in the face. It was most likely both.

"She'd never-"

"-You genuinely believe the blond of her hair, underneath the brown, grew out in two, single, straight patches? Her beautiful locks marred in a fashionable, symmetrical pattern?"

His mouth quickly snapped shut. She grinned brighter, eyebrow lifting even higher.

"And if it's good enough for mother dearest then I'm sure you can handle it for a couple of weeks."

Satisfied with his fish out of water expression, she re-entered the alley they'd apparated from.

Glaring daggers to the back of her head, he went in after her.

She stopped when she was far enough that pedestrians who passed the alley either ignored or no longer noticed their presence and crouched, dropping the plastic bag on the frosted ground beside her and moved to untie the beaded bag from her waist.

Draco stopped beside her, arms crossed, and practically looming as she squatted, arm so deep in her extendable bag her shoulder was nearly entirely engulfed within it.

"How do you even know where to grab if it's that deep?"

"Compartments," she said, voice strained as she tried to stretch herself further.

His turn to eye roll.

"And how exactly, can you tell one from the other?" He asked, stepping away and leaning back against the brick. Of course, she'd categorized the inside of a bag. How very typical of her.

"Texture," she quickly replied, and he watched as her mouth opened slightly, tongue coming out to touch the corner of her top lip as she shifted her arm around to the other side of the bag, reaching to its other side.

That was…new.

Averting his gaze, he found interest in a pebble near his foot, feeling he'd just witnessed something rather indecent. Or maybe he was just bothered by the fact that he'd even _thought_ her tongue could be considerably provocative without her even trying. First her smile, then her tits, and now her tongue...sucking in a breath, he forced himself to redirect his thoughts before they turned into something he really didn't want to acknowledge.

"Wouldn't happen to be looking for a sleek piece of wood?" He piped up; voice slightly throatier than it was a moment ago. "You know, somewhat pliable, heated core, always gets the job done."

She looked up at him from her position on the ground and he couldn't' resist giving her a wink.

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Might want another wand fighting on your side in case we ever come across a…" He brought a finger to his chin. " _Bad guy_."

She rolled her eyes, resuming her search in the bag, "ha, ha, not going to happen."

"What? Coming across bad guys?"

"No, you getting a wand."

He sighed, throwing his head back against the wall behind him. Figures.

His gaze shifted down to the packaged goods beside her. Pushing off the wall, he sidestepped around her and reached down, snatching the plastic bag from its spot on the ground.

"Hey!"

Ignoring her, he reached his hand in and pulled back the box he'd gripped. "Relax, I just want to read about the monstrosity I'm about to impose on myself…What's this?"

Her gaze lifted to the box he'd pulled out, and she stood up quick as a flash, beaded bag opened and forgotten on the ground.

"Give it back," she ordered, cheeks turning crimson red.

"Is it edible?" He asked, turning it around in his hand.

" _No_."

"What is it?" He asked again, bringing his other hand up and swiftly opening the carton.

"Stop!" she said, reaching for it, but he pulled it out of her reach.

"Seems important," he snickered.

"It is," she said, extending her hand out once more and swiftly bending her legs and pushing herself off the ground for maximum reach. He quickly turned to the side, lifting his hand even higher and she ended up doing an awkward chest bump with his shoulder as gravity pulled her back down.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," she huffed, hands perching on her hips. "It's a feminine hygiene product."

He tilted the box down, still out of her reach, to peek inside, "you mean like the conditioner you should've bought?"

Her eyes rolled towards the heavens, but she couldn't fight the awkward tug behind her ribs and the fumbly smile that formed her lips. Who on earth did she piss off to have been put in this situation?

"For menstruation," she chuckled.

He brought the box down, taking a closer look. "For menstruation…" he repeated.

She half expected him to freak out and drop the dam thing.

"How does it work?" He asked instead, poking his fingers inside and taking out one of the wrapped tubes.

She raised an eyebrow, the red of her cheeks glowing brighter.

"You…unwrap it when you're menstruating and it's inserted into… the vagina."

If he wasn't spooked before, he would be now. Oh well, she thought, he did it to himself. Now he could suffer the consequences of his assholery.

"There's cotton on the inside that soaks up the blood."

He said nothing a moment, then nodded, quietly sliding the tampon back into the box and held it out, gently handing it back to her. She couldn't hide her awkward smile as she took it from him.

"How's the… _appliance_ removed?"

Her hands fiddled with the box a moment, really hating whomever held that grudge against her.

"Do muggle women go fishing for it, like with their fingers?"

_Oh dear God._

If she was previously red she was absolutely sure her ears were now purple. Clearing her throat, she stuck out her chin and tried her best to sound professional.

"It's called a tampon," she explained as if she was teaching a class full of prepubescent teenagers. "There's a string attached to the end of it and when it's well used, you pull it out."

When she finished, she found she couldn't look him in the eye. But it was hard to stop herself from sneaking a peek at his reaction. And this time, he acted predictably; scrunching his nose and curling his lip in utter disgust.

"Why don't you just stick to potions, Granger? The _tampon_ method" He said carefully, testing the word out. "Seems impractical and awkward."

"It's just something I've always done," she shrugged, crossing her arms to hug them around her waist, slightly blocking the box from his view. "My mother taught it to me when I was young, and I've done it so often now it almost seems…natural I suppose."

"Nothing natural about _that_ ," he quickly spat.

"Well, there's nothing natural about taking a potion that evaporates menstrual blood loss either," she blandly said.

"That's exactly what it does."

"I know, and I've just always found _that_ to be bizarre."

He crossed his arms.

"I dunno, I think if I was a girl, I'd be more comfortable with a disappearing act over manual insertion and extraction. I imagine it'd be time-consuming, and on top of that I assume you'd need to remove yourself from social situations in order to do it."

"Well… you're not wrong," she said. But Hermione was at a loss, suddenly off-kilter. Not about the tampons, no, she was never going to change her habits about that. They were, for once, having a real conversation. It wasn't about the war, or the plan, or their prejudices.

It was about tampons.

He wasn't even being malicious about it. Just offering his remarks.

It was unbelievingly refreshing in the weirdest way.

She'd go so far as to say he was being surprisingly mature. Not something she usually associated with him.

"I suppose you have a point," she conceded once more and offered him a shy smile. "It's just a habit I'm comfortable with I guess."

He shrugged in return, "whatever Granger, do what you'd like."

Still smiling, she nodded, awkwardly giving the box a tap with the palm of her hand. Then she turned back to the beaded bag that'd been left on the alley floor and reached down into it once more, fingering the various compartments she'd once organized and quickly finding the ones she needed, and dropped the tampons inside. Then she proceeded to do the same with the other items in the bag until they were all stored and easily accessible.

* * *

This was good. Odd, but good. Malfoy's usual temperament seemed to calm for the moment. They were simply two people conversing: neither enemies nor spies with hidden agendas or opponents in a greater battle.

But it was hard to know how long the moment of peace would last.

Grabbing her bead bag, she stood, fastening it to her hip once more.

If they wanted the highest chance to make it out of this alive, it was best to have his voluntary cooperation. If she could establish a common goal, one that surpassed the need for supplies, and establish steps to accomplish such a goal, he'd be less likely to jump at the first opportunity he'd have to wipe her memory and leave her to Voldemort's dogs.

Sneaking a glance at him, she noted his eyes were fixed, staring back out in the street, lost in thought. She knew obliviation was still an option for him and he'd take the chance if it was presented to him.

He looked at her then, seemingly done with his line of thought, and waited for her next instruction.

 _After all_ , she thought, echoing his words to her, _she still had the wand_.

For now, she was still the boss, and he knew it.

Ok. Make a plan. Convince him it's the best possible option to stay safe and create achievable milestones along the way so he wouldn't lose faith in it.

Another memory hit her and he practically saw the moment the plan formed in her head.

She smiled at him, eyes glimmering with hope at the excitement of finally having a course of action that exceeded figuring out how to survive, or what to do next. She'd figured out a long term game plan that, if done right, would keep them both protected.

Knock on Gryffindor's sword that it would.

But first, the hair.

Then the plan.


	25. Chapter 25

"You've figured something out."

It was obvious she had. It was the same look that gripped her in class when she had the answer to a teacher's question. Her eyes would grow to the size of a mermaid's breastplate, her eyebrows would fly high, and her arm would shoot up faster than Marcus Flint's Quaffle throw. Now here, pointing directly at him, were those same gleaming brown orbs.

He watched as she took a step closer to him, tightly curling her fists to her chest and quickly shooting them back out, opening her palms to him and sucking in a rapid breath, before promptly blurting out, "I have a plan."

_Of course she does._

Holding his chin high, he managed something between a nod and a shake of his head as he opened his palms back to her, speaking dully but clearly.

"Let's hear it then."

Her smile slipped out, seemingly pleased he was humoring her, and she lifted a finger, preparing to count every item on the itinerary that was to come, each with more enthusiasm than the next. "First, we change your hair—"

"We've established that—"

" _Next_ , we find our way to Diagon alley—"

His eyebrows furrowed at the suggestion. They didn't exactly have a way to get there. And on top of that, all the entrances were heavily guarded by the ministry because of her and the wonderboy's little stunt at Gringotts. Apparently, having a dragon burst free from deep within the bank was enough to put the entire region on alert. And since the government was involved, the Dark Lord had his boney fingers indirectly involved… she must have guessed that. "By what means exactly?" He asked.

"That's where we'll get the remainder of the supplies."

His brow twitched and a hand found itself a perch on his hips.

"Granger—"

She cut him off, bulldozing right over him.

"I imagine we won't be able to apparate much after that as I've never really been down to that area. So, perhaps we could take a bus." She began pacing back and forth, hands flying with her words. "And you've clearly never used muggle transportation—oh, don't give me that look. You'll get accustomed to it."

His narrowed eyes followed her movements as she continued her never-ending train of thought.

"Ok, so we'll either need to gather enough stock to last us the entire trip or we'll need to figure out a way to get some money so we can use the bus. Well…really, if we didn't take the bus, we'd just need an extendable tent and then we can start making our way south. That part we could figure out as we go—"

"I'm already seeing holes in this _eureka_ plan of yours—" he said to no one in particular, gently pressing himself back against the wall of the alley and shoving his hands in his pockets. She wasn't listening to him anyway.

"After that, we'll travel to Dover," said Hermione.

Lifting his shoulders, he exhaled a long breath and let his head rest against the wall, deciding it was best to let her rant. She'd eventually fall out of her headspace.

"And from there,-" she continued.

Maybe.

"-we'll get on the muggle fairy and head over to Calais."

_Calais?_

He looked back to her brightly shining eyes, and it was easy to imagine her eagerly waiting for him to give her an " _O"_ for her _outstanding_ presentation. Shaking his head, he forced his brain to shut out the oncoming schoolgirl fantasy and focused on quickly recapping everything she'd just rambled.

When he felt collected, he took a slow breath and summarised.

"So…you want to go to France?"

Giving him a pointed look, she exaggerated a nod. " _We_ want to go to France."

He frowned. "Why would we—"

"Think of it! Back when you were recovering from the imperius curse, you spoke of a safe house."

His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up as he pushed his head into the wall and away from her.

"Yes! Right? In France!" she exclaimed. "Where is it located? Who else knows about it?"

He stayed quiet a moment. Then lifted a single eyebrow and leaned toward her as he clarified her plan.

"You want to travel across England, and into France, just to hide in the Malfoy family's safe house."

"Yes! Well, sort of, but yes!"

 _Wow_.

That was an interesting idea. He crossed his arms, letting his chin fall to his chest as he seriously contemplated her proposition. The Malfoy safe houses weren't well known. The only living people who knew about the one in France were his mother, his father, certain house-elves and himself…and well, now Granger too, he supposed.

"Don't you see? It's brilliant! No one would even consider looking for us there. It's the ideal solution. We'd be safe from snatchers, the weather, possibly starvation if the place is stocked up."

"Granger, the grounds are sealed with ancient family enchantments—I don't even know if I can get you in."

Her expression fell.

"Well, it would be worthwhile to find out. We're fresh out of money and we're homeless."

" _You're_ homeless."

Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, hands landing harshly on her hips.

"Last I checked, so are you. But perhaps I was mistaken." She said smartly, pulling at a flyaway strand of hair. "You could waltz back to Malfoy manor and hope daddy's set up a _welcome home_ party for you. Of course, I wouldn't go with, and you could live with whatever consequences that could come of that."

His nose wrinkled in response and his teeth bared, his neck flushing and he let out something between a tsk and a huff from his nostrils. Something he'd hoped she'd take as a warning to back off.

But she held steady and confident, unruffled by his change in demeanor, as her eyes still burrowed unapologetically into his.

"You must think you're so bright," he rigidly spat.

"Am I not?"

This time a sharp, breathy laugh escaped him as he looked up to the heavens, breaking their ongoing staring contest. He looked to the roof of the alley and up to the heavy clouds above them. He needed the reprieve for patience, for a clever response, or for pretty much anything that would get him out of agreeing with her.

Because she was indeed, bright. He knew she was. He'd already admitted as much. He resented the fact that he put himself in a situation where he had to reiterate it once again. So, when nothing came, he let out a long sigh and hung his head.

Closing his eyes, he gave her a single nod, then slowly lifted his gaze to watch her reaction. Her shoulders had dropped, and she exhaled, letting her eyes wander around his features. Then the corner of her mouth turned up, and she rolled her eyes, moving forward a few steps and coming up to lean her shoulder against the wall beside him.

Making sure to keep his head straight, he resisted the temptation to turn and kept his eyes occupied with scanning the alley ahead. He brought his hands up and placed them behind his back, shifting his weight to them.

She was right, of course. The safe house was a clever idea. If it was empty, they could just hide and wait for everything to blow over. Her friends didn't know about it, so none of them would be coming for her there, which meant he would be safe. Even better, he would have the means to try contacting his mother. But there was also a possibility that his father had offered up the house as another death eater hideout. The Dark Lord's influence wasn't limited by the borders of England. And if that was the case, he'd be forced to string a story of how he overpowered her and planned to bring her back to the manor and attempt to offer her up as a spoil of war. He'd watch her be tortured yet a second time. Merlin only knew how much he didn't want to go through _that_ again.

His gaze fell to the ground in front of him.

That being said – he knew she'd reveal his defective nature and use it to her advantage.

He considered his options carefully.

He snuck a peak down to the pouch tied to her side. She still had that other wand in one of those compartments. In order to negate scenario B, all he had to do was get his hands on it. His fingers curled as they rubbed against his palms. Same plan as before. Nothing's changed. There was no discernable downside for him if he succeeded.

Glancing up, he could see her quiet demeanor from the corner of his eye as she watched him.

Decided, he finally turned and looked at her, giving another curt nod.

"Let's do it."

She took a moment, her eyes shifted between his, searching for whatever it was she was missing.

Not enjoying the extra scrutiny, he pushed off the wall and stepped past her curious gaze, quickly rubbing his ever-growing sweaty palms on his pants.

It would be a long journey to France. He had ample time to grab the wand. Regardless of the outcome at the safe house, either they would both be safe, or she would be silenced and he would be free.

"Alright," she said from behind him, "well I'm not sure how you knew I was homeless, but my parents are out of the country, so if the house isn't sold yet we could use the upstairs bathroom to—"

"Your house is off-limits." He interrupted, turning back around to her, "it's under constant watch in case you did something stupid and sentimental. Like return to it."

"Right." She said. "Of course that makes sense."

Then her eyes snapped back to his, lips suddenly pursed and eyebrows knitting together, as her voice gave an almost breathy shake.

"What do they know? About my parents?"

She visibly stiffened, bracing herself as if she was suddenly hanging on a piece of thread and he had scissors hovering above it, waiting for the right moment to cut her down. And he debated doing so. But holding her parents above her wouldn't get him anything of value.

Sure, he could lie and say they'd been captured or killed. But then she'd be devastated and distraught, which meant he'd need to endure the aftermath. And if there was anything that was remotely relatable between them, it was their desire to go home. To family. He watched the intensity of her gaze grow with his silence.

His features softened, a hand coming up a moment before dropping back down to his side. Giving a small shake of his head, his eyes dipped to the ground before looking back up to her.

"Nothing. The house had already been vacated when they arrived."

"No." She said. "You're lying."

With a jerking motion, she reached back for her wand, pulling it out and hastily moving forward to close the distance between them. When Hermione was in reach, she grabbed the cloth of his elbow and jabbed her wand forward into his abdomen. His hands flurried to her shoulders and held on as he pushed her away, hips jutting backward to avoid being stabbed.

"What. Happened?"

"Nothing."

"Malfoy, I swear—" she hissed, giving his arm a rough jerk.

He grabbed her shoulders more boldly.

"I'm not lying." he urged firmly, giving her a squeeze and leaning forward, forcing his eyes into hers.

"If something's happened to your parents, I know nothing about it."

She searched his eyes again, quickly overrun by her emotions, and he watched as her eyelids went red and the moisture built.

" _Honestly_ ," he echoed, looking at her from underneath his bangs and daring to crack a smile.

She didn't return it, but the tension eased around her face.

Slowly, her hand slipped down his arm, until she finally let go.

"We need to get to Diagon alley." She said, looking away from him and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

He dropped his arms from her shoulders and looked away, letting his hands sink into his pockets. It hadn't taken much to convince her at all. Something swelled within him then he couldn't quite identify as he quietly exhaled; she believed him. "Tough chance Granger, all the entrances are guarded up and the Floo Networks are being monitored," he responded, "as is King's Cross, the Leaky Cauldron—"

"Yes, I figured. And I'm willing to bet they disabled apparition like they did in the forest."

He nodded, clearing his throat. "Most likely."

"Hmmm," she mumbled, looking off into nothing, crossing her arms before bringing her thumb up to gently chew on the nail.

He waited for her to figure it out.

It didn't take long before she stopped playing with her thumb and used the hand to hold up her chin, finding his gaze.

"Ab's village had thestrals."

His eyebrows shot up. "Can you ride one?"

"I've done it before actually." She muttered, uncrossing her arms and giving a tap to her thigh with the wand she still held. "They're much like owls with letters. You only need to say your destination and they usually understand the general area they need to go."

That could work.

Clever indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope you understood the reference Draco made by saying "honestly". It was meant as a recall to Hermione's "honestly" when she reassured him she hadn't jinxed him in the previous chapter. And it's part of the reason she lets her guard down. I'm trying to show they're building trust, but I'm not sure it came across that way.
> 
> Anyways, hope I've clarified it now!  
> Thanks again for dropping a review :D  
> -Mel.


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